The Merry Widower
by MrsFWDarcy
Summary: "Hermione," he practically purred, "you're still in love with me." AU post-Hogwarts Dramione that is loosely based on Franz Lehar's 'The Merry Widow'. Pretty light and fluffy, but rated M for sex scenes and some coarse language. Extended summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Story Details: AU; five years post-Hogwarts; No Voldie, no death eaters; Hermione and Draco and the gang finished their 7****th**** year like any normal wizarding teenagers, though the blood purity issue is still a problem for our protagonist. Neither Harry nor Ron feature prominently in this story. FYI: I had to bend the rules a bit about wizards coming of age at 17, I needed it to be 18 for this story to work. I am also operating under the assumption that the Malfoys have a long standing penchant for spending money, but not so much with the earning of money. While they are by no means paupers, in my story they did reach the point where they would have had to start living like normal people if drastic measures were not taken, hence…**

**Summary: Just before his 18****th**** birthday, Draco's parents signed a magical contract effectively selling him into marriage with a wealthy spinster from France (I'm going to put her at about 35, not because I think 35 is old, but because wizards tend to marry young in my imagination). The Malfoys were motivated both by money and the desire to keep Draco away from a certain muggleborn witch they feared was getting too close to their son. Unable to disobey his parents and bound by the contract they signed on his behalf, Draco was forced to marry and move away to France immediately after graduating from Hogwarts. Five years later, Draco returns to Britain as a very wealthy widower in the hopes of marrying again, for love this time. **

**[Insert standard 'I'm not JKR' disclaimer here.]**

**Chapter One**

Hermione Granger was sitting at her desk with her nose stuck in a huge book about a rare species of dragon. Quill in hand, she was furiously copying down notes and totally engrossed in her work when she heard a sharp wrapping on her office door.

"Come in," she said automatically, not bothering to look up from her parchment.

She heard the door open and close again before the sound of loud throat-clearing finally prompted her to turn her attention to the man standing before her. Tall and rotund with brown hair and beard that were slightly graying, her boss Amos Diggory stood before her looking irritated as per usual.

"Granger," he barked, "how is that new piece of legislation you've been drafting to protect that endangered dragon coming? Have you closed all the loopholes in the previous law to prevent those blasted hunters from wiping the ruddy things from the face earth?"

"I believe so, sir. I should be able to have the final draft on your desk by tomorrow morning if I stay late again tonight," she said promptly.

"Good. Very good, but it can wait until Monday. I have a much more pressing matter for you to attend to this evening."

"What is it sir? Do you need me out in the field?" she asked hopefully. Field research was the best part of her job with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Unfortunately she didn't get to spend nearly as much time as she'd like out of the office because although Hermione was more than capable of holding her own in the wild, Mr. Diggory preferred to send the men in the department to do the 'dirty work'.

"Ah, yes something like that," he said evasively. "I need you to attend a function this evening. It's a fundraiser for the department."

Her mood sank immediately.

"You want me to go to a fundraiser?" she asked, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt. She would rather be stuck at her desk all night pushing papers than attend some stupid fundraiser.

"It's more like a ball really. Some wealthy donor wants to give money to fund that house-elf bill of rights thingy that you've been working on and they intend to present the donation at the ball."

"A ball," Hermione reiterated. She was so focused on the prospect of having to go to a ball that she missed the bit about getting money to help house elves. "You need me to attend a ball? Tonight?" she asked, hoping against hope that her boss was playing some sort of sick joke.

"Yes, you see I was scheduled to attend, but something's come up and we need someone there to represent our department. I've already arranged for the invitation to be sent to your home. The invitation acts as a portkey and will transport you directly to the event. You do own formal attire, don't you Granger?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, I'm sure I can find something," she said, sounding slightly exasperated, "but wouldn't it be better to send a more senior member of the-"

"Granger," he interrupted curtly, "I need you there. Show up. Wear a dress. Make nice with the rich donors. We need this money Granger. I'm counting on you. Now take the rest of the day off so you can go home and get ready. Portkey activates at seven o'clock. Don't miss it. I'll expect a full report on my desk first thing Monday morning." With that, her boss abruptly turned to leave, closing the door behind him with shuddering finality.

Hermione let out a groan and dropped her head to her desk. She had to go to a ball? Did people still have balls? What self respecting adult actually enjoyed dressing up in some ridiculous formal robes just so they could waste an evening standing around sipping champagne and making small talk with people they don't even know? She groaned again as she hoisted herself up from her desk. She gathered all the papers she wanted to take home with her that weekend, returned all of her other files to the filing cabinet, grabbed her jacket and headed out the office.

As she waited for the elevator, she overheard two secretaries gossiping and pawing over the pages of _Witch Weekly_.

"He is so gorgeous," the first one cooed.

"And so rich," the second added with gusto.

"I'd give anything to go to that ball tonight," the first witch moaned.

"I know. I would willing go without pay for a whole year if Mr. Diggory would send me," the second witch sighed dramatically.

Hermione merely rolled her eyes at them, though neither one noticed as they were both too busy drooling over the mystery man who would supposedly be in attendance that evening. Not that Hermione cared a jot about who was going to be there. She didn't even know where 'there' was! She just wanted to get the night over with as quickly as possible so she could get back to her real work.

She stepped off the elevator at the atrium level of the Ministry where all the fireplaces were located and walking into the first available fire, she shouted her address and was instantly whisked away to her London flat.

When she arrived at her apartment, she noticed an envelope made of thick parchment sitting on her kitchen table. She assumed that must be the invitation Amos was talking about and didn't bother to open it. Instead, she fixed herself a cup of tea and went upstairs to have a shower.

Freshly showered and bundled in a large fluffy blue bathrobe with a towel wrapped around her wet hair, Hermione made her way back into the kitchen where she fixed herself a light dinner and measured out a small amount of food for her cat Crookshanks, who had gotten a lot slower and considerable fatter over the years, especially now that he spent every moment of the day either eating or sleeping.

"Crookshanks," she called. "Dinner time!" She waited for him to come slinking around the corner, but when he didn't come she moved through the house, peering behind furniture, stopping to listen for a distant mewling cry, but she neither heard nor saw any sign of her ill-tempered ginger cat. "Get down here you fat, lazy fur ball!" she called again, but the cat was nowhere to be found.

"That's odd," she said to herself, but shrugged it off thinking that he was probably just asleep somewhere upstairs and hadn't heard her. He was getting rather old and she wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he'd gone slightly deaf.

After she'd finished her own supper and cleared the dishes with a wave of her wand, she dragged herself back up the stairs to find something to wear and ready herself for the evening.

As she opened her closet she thought that perhaps her boss had had a point in asking whether or not she owned dress robes. The selection of robes in her closet was rather dismal. Her typical attire for work consisted of an assortment of pants and sweaters in a variety of neutral colors with a few pastels thrown in for good measure. Shifting her work clothes aside, she came to the section of her small closet that contained her weekend clothes: three pairs of jeans and a dozen t-shirts. At the very back of her closet she had one gray wool business suit, which she had worn only once to her job interview at the Ministry, a black cocktail dress that she reserved for dates (not that she had many of those) and other special occasions, and lastly, at the very back there were two sets of dress robes; one of which she had worn to the Yule Ball in her fourth year (almost eight years ago), the other from Bill and Fleur's wedding. She clearly needed help.

Leaving her depressing closet in disarray, she ran into the living room, stuck her towel-turbaned head into the fireplace and shouted the address for the apartment that Harry and Ginny shared.

When her head finally stopped spinning and she was looking into their sitting room, she called out for Ginny.

Within moments, she saw her red-headed friend bounding down the stairs with a look of surprise and delight when she saw who was calling.

"Hermione! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work? You never skive off early!"

"Today I was forced to. Mr. Diggory wants me to go to some fundraiser for the department and I haven't any decent dress robes. I was hoping I could pop by and borrow something of yours?"

Ginny beamed at her.

"Of course!" she said excitedly. "I've been dying to dress you up and give you a makeover for years!"

"No, no, no Ginny. I just need a dress. No make-up or any of that nonsense."

"Fine," Ginny huffed in mock indignation, "if you don't want my help, then you'll just have to go out and buy some new robes," she said, knowing that Hermione would cave at her threat.

"Oh alright," she sighed, "but don't go overboard. The last time I let you get hold of me I was scrubbing that stuff off my face for weeks."

"You were not. Don't exaggerate. Here, let me help you out of the fireplace."

With one quick tug, Ginny pulled Hermione up out of the fire where she landed with a dull thud sprawled on the floor in front of the hearth.

"Not exactly graceful are you?" her friend said with an appraising smile. "Don't worry about that, I can charm your heels so they'll feel like trainers."

"Heels? Isn't that just asking for trouble?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Relax, 'Mione. Just leave everything to me," Ginny said as she led Hermione upstairs to the bedroom that she and Harry shared and plunked Hermione down on the bed. "You just sit here while I find you something to wear."

"Okay," Hermione sighed in defeat.

For the next ten minutes Ginny was buried deep within the confines of her walk-in closet, coming up for air only when she extracted a gown she thought Hermione might like and tossed it onto the bed before diving in once more. Hermione immediately ruled out anything strapless – too dangerous; puffy – too ostentatious; or transparent - too Ginny. That left them with threes gowns to choose from: a long, bright red spaghetti strap number that had lots of faux diamond detail around the waist that was not exactly Hermione's taste; a black halter dress that had a plunging neckline and was completely backless and not at all Hermione's taste; and lastly, an emerald green, one shoulder, empire waist gown whose skirt flowed lightly to the floor. This last gown was simple and elegant, precisely Hermione's style and her ultimate choice.

Given that Ginny had to work within a limited time frame, she dried Hermione's hair with a wave of her wand and tied it up in an elegant knot at the base of her neck, allowing a few curly tendrils to fall around her face. As Hermione demanded, Ginny applied minimal make-up; just enough blush to brighten her complexion, some smoky eye shadow and sheer ever-lasting lip gloss.

When Hermione spied her reflection in Ginny's mirror she hardly recognized herself.

"Wow. Ginny you're a miracle worker!" Hermione exclaimed.

"It was nothing," she said airily. "Especially when I've got such great raw material to work with," she added, smiling.

With a last look at her appearance Hermione said nervously, "Well I'd better be off. Thanks for everything Ginny."

They exchanged a quick hug and not wanting to get soot on her gown, Hermione decided to apparate rather than floo back to her flat to retrieve the invitation portkey.

Once in the kitchen she noticed that Crookshanks still hadn't eaten his dinner. She did another quick search of the apartment, but still couldn't find the cat. This didn't bother her too much though. Crookshanks had gone missing before. The last time her beloved cat had missed his dinner Hermione had found him exploring the crawl space in the back of her closet feasting on mice.

Glancing at her watch, she noticed that she only had a few minutes before the portkey was scheduled to activate. She had just enough time to grab her purse and throw a shawl over her shoulders before the parchment on her table began to exude a faint bluish glow around the edges. She reached for the envelope and the moment her fingers touched the glowing object she felt the familiar feeling of a giant invisible hook catching her by the naval and pulling her through time and space.

She landed heavily on her heeled feet upon the gravel driveway, but mercifully, she kept her balance. _Ginny had been right about the shoes_, Hermione thought with a relieved smile.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a high-pitched voice coming from somewhere around her waist squeaked, "Your invitation please, Miss?"

Hermione looked down to see a house elf wearing a white tuxedo and tails holding out a tray upon which she was prompted to place her invitation. She did as bade, but was taken aback at the sight of the elf. Who in their right mind would use house elves as servants at a fundraiser for house elf rights? It just didn't add up.

"May I take your wrap, Miss?" a second smartly dressed elf asked, invading her thoughts once more.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione said, recovering quickly as she handed her shawl to the elf.

Hermione was so wrapped up in her thoughts about the elves that she was halfway up the grand staircase leading to the large, open front doors of the house before she finally realized where she was. She couldn't believe how stupid she had been not to have read the invitation. For now, here she was, with no means of escape, standing on the threshold of none of other than Malfoy Manor.

**A/N: So this was not the story I was intending to publish for my first fanfic. I am currently in the middle of an epic, slightly angsty Dramione romance that I'm not ready to post just yet. In a bout of writer's block, this little story wandered into my head. So here we are. Hope you enjoy!**

**p.s. This story was written very quickly and completely sans beta so kindly forgive any errors. If you happen to know a good beta looking for something do or would like to volunteer yourself please send me a PM! Please R&R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Hermione stood in the doorway with her mouth slightly open, gaping in a rather uncouth fashion at the vaguely familiar surroundings, effectively blocking the entrance to the house.

"Excuse me," said the elf acting as the doorman, "but if the young Miss would please continue up the stairs, the guests are convened in the ballroom..." the elf continued as he gently nudged her forward with one tiny hand on the small of her back.

Dazedly, she ambled forward, crossed the large foyer and slowly began to ascend the marble staircase. On her way up, she caught a glimpse of a few gilt-framed portraits of haughty-looking Malfoy ancestors who were silently sneering down at the proceedings.

When she finally made it to the top, she took several deep breaths to try to steady her nerves. Summoning all her Gryffindor courage, she strode into the ballroom with pulse racing, palms sweating and head held high. She nearly lost her breath all over again however, as she took in the splendid room before her. Though she visited the Manor once before, she had never seen this room. It was larger by far than any she had ever seen. She guessed that even the great hall at Hogwarts could fit comfortably inside this room several times over. The majority of the walls were painted white and covered with nearly floor to ceiling baroque, gilt-framed mirrors that reflected the light from the candles and the crystal chandeliers, throwing the room into a soft golden glow. The back wall was made up almost entirely of windows and huge French doors that lead out onto a terrace lit with fairy lights, overlooking the lake. She marveled at the highly polished wood floors with their ornate parquet inlays, the thick, rich drapery dressing the windows and doors and the small gold, glass-top café style tables that were sprinkled throughout the room. It was truly a magnificent sight.

Extending her observations to take in the people in the room, she was surprised by the sheer number of guests. There had to be at least three hundred witches and wizards assembled there, with more arriving in droves every minute, and it was still early. She couldn't believe that this many people would turn out to support house elf rights. Before she could get too excited about the prospects however, she began to notice that there were far more witches than wizards in attendance, several of whom seemed to be clumped around something or perhaps someone in the center of the room and a sinking feeling began to settle in her stomach.

Momentarily diverted by floating tray of champagne that turned out to be manned by yet another tuxedo clad house elf, she reached for a glass and began circling the room, avoiding the large group of witches in the center, in search of a familiar face. As she walked around the perimeter of the ballroom she recognized several of her schoolmates from Hogwarts, but most all were Slytherins and none had been particularly friendly to her in school. She saw a few people that she recognized by face and not by name from the Ministry, but no one that she knew well enough to talk to. Just as she was about to give up hope entirely, she caught sight of a familiar blond-haired someone walking towards her.

"Hello Hermione," the blonde said, smiling.

"Luna!" Hermione cried in surprise and delight. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

"I could say the same for you," Luna replied. "You look fabulous Hermione."

"Thank you, so do you. I can't take any of the credit myself though, this is all Ginny's doing," she said, indicating her dress and neatly styled coiffure.

The blond smiled knowingly.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked her friend.

"I got an invite from my publisher. Since I'm writing about rare magical creatures she thought it would be a good idea for me to mingle with some people who might interested in the book or better yet, interested in funding another research expedition," said Luna with a sly smile. "What brings you here?"

"I was forced into coming by my boss. Apparently someone at the party is donating a huge sum of money to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and I am the lucky designated representative from the Ministry this evening," she said glumly.

"That's great 'Mione. Any idea who the big donor is?" Luna inquired with interest, not picking up on the sarcasm.

"No idea," Hermione confessed. "I just hope that whoever they are, they make their donation and do it quickly so that I can get out of here. I hate these sorts of things."

"Why Miss Granger," said a cool drawling voice from behind her that caused her spine to stiffen, "you shouldn't speak so loudly. I'm sure you wouldn't want your anonymous donor to accidentally overhear you. That would be terribly rude."

"I don't see why you should care Malfoy," Hermione snapped as she turned to face him, "we all know you've never given a damn about house elves or anyone else besides yourself for that matter."

"On the contrary Miss Granger," he said as he swiftly captured her hand and brought it up to his lips for a chaste kiss, "I care a great deal."

_Oh Holy Merlin no_, _not him – anyone but him, s_he thought desperately, as a chill settled down her spine and her stomach dropped so fast she wouldn't have been surprised to see it splattered on the floor in front of her.

When he released her hand their eyes locked briefly and she cursed herself for the fluttering feelings that stirred in the puddle that was now her stomach. He was just as beautiful as she remembered; tall and broad shouldered with a lean muscular frame; flawless pale skin that looked impossibly smooth as though it had been carved from stone; light blond hair that was no longer slicked back and plastered against his head, but cut short in the back and on the sides and left longer on top so that it framed his angular patrician features in a very flattering way. As ever, his most striking feature was by far his storm cloud gray eyes.

Tearing her gaze away from him and mentally slapping herself for staring so openly, she resumed her attack on his character.

"You?" she asked, incredulous. "You're hosting this party? You're the anonymous donor? I just assumed it was your parents, after all they…."

"No," he drawled, interrupting her before she could get in another good insult, "mother and father are enjoying their retirement in Greece far too much to concern themselves with the goings on in wizarding Britain," he said, flashing his trademark smirk, "and I have no idea who your mystery donor is. How could I when they wish to remain anonymous?" he asked innocently.

"Just sod off Malfoy," Hermione said, turning around only to find that Luna had abandoned her.

"That's what you always used to say," he mused. "Now have another glass of champagne and try to pretend that you're having a good time," he added as he took her arm and led her out onto the terrace.

"That's what _you_ always used to say," Hermione retorted, allowing him to lead her outside, albeit reluctantly. She waited until they were out on the terrace and away from prying eyes before wrenching her arm from him. She was technically on the job and didn't want to cause a scene.

"Must you always be so difficult?" Draco asked politely, handing her a fresh flute of champagne.

"Must _you_ always be such a prat?" Hermione fumed in frustration, grabbing the glass from him and downing it in one.

"Now, now Hermione, let's not start our first conversation in five years with a quarrel," he said in a patronizingly unruffled tone, taking her empty glass from her and setting it on a table by the door.

"Why not? It's how we ended the last one!" she huffed as she stalked away from him to the other side of the terrace.

"Well if someone would've listened to me instead of jumping to the wrong conclusions without allowing me the opportunity to defend myself, then maybe we wouldn't have fought so much!" Draco said in a hissed whisper.

Hermione was pleased to see that his hackles finally seemed to be raised.

"Is that so? Well maybe if someone hadn't been so terrified of disappointing his parents then someone wouldn't have run off and married some old French-"

"You know full well that that marriage contract was signed before I came of age," Draco snapped, effectively cutting her off. "My parents practically sold me to that old bint. The contract was magically binding and there was nothing I could've done about it!" Draco replied angrily, louder this time.

"All I know is that you were too afraid to tell your parents the truth about us and you blindly went along with an arranged marriage," she said, trying desperately to hide the hurt in her voice. "I see that you're taking her death rather well. Dead two months and you're already throwing a party? By the looks of it half the single witches in Britain are in attendance," she said as snidely as possible.

"First of all, my wife was a heinous bitch and everyone knows it. I'm not sorry she's dead, may she rot in hell…"

"Draco!" Hermione gasped in surprise at his bluntness.

"And second of all," he said, ignoring her outburst, "jealous much?"

_His smirk should be illegal_, Hermione thought as she glared daggers at him.

"What on earth makes you think I'm jealous, _Malfoy_?" she asked lightly, emphasizing the use of his surname.

"Simple, _Hermione_," he practically purred her name and she had to fight the weakness in her knees. "You're still in love with me."

"WHAT?" Hermione spluttered. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Now if you'll excuse me…" she said as she tried to make her escape.

"If you're so over me then why have you never married?" Draco taunted with a triumphant grin, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

"I could have," Hermione lied. "Dozens of times."

"But you didn't."

"What difference does that make? It doesn't change the fact that I think you're a selfish prat." she said dismissively, turning her back on him once more as she looked out over the moonlit grounds.

"If I could, I would change a great many things," he said as he slowly stalked toward her causing her to jump in fright and back into the stone balustrade that surrounded the terrace.

"Well you can't and you've missed your chance so leave me alone," she said nervously. Glancing over the balustrade she tried to estimate how far she was from the ground in the event that he came any closer and she was forced to jump to her death.

He moved closer still.

"That would be a terrible pity if it were true," he said quietly. He was so close now she could smell his cologne and feel his breath against her cheek. She tried to lean away from him but his hulking form blocked any possible means of escape. She was completely trapped. Her brain ceased to function and his commanding presence rendered her speechless.

"You are absolutely stunning Hermione. You took my breath away the moment you set foot in the room. I've always loved how you look in Slytherin green. I'm glad you remembered," he said softly as he brushed an errant curl from her face.

"This dress isn't even mine. I borrowed it from Ginny," she said, trying to keep the conversation as casual as possible when he was in such close proximity.

"Be sure to thank her for me," he breathed against the shell of her ear.

This was too much. She couldn't handle anymore.

"Get off me!" She tried to shove him away from her, but he was a wall of solid muscle and impossible to budge. She felt corned now and that was not a feeling Hermione enjoyed as it caused her ire to rise. "You are such an insufferable git!" she shouted as she gave him another almighty push.

"And you are so sexy when you get angry. Now I remember why I loved to pick fights with you so often," he said lightly as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them down with one hand, placing the other securely around her waist and flashing her yet another smirk.

She struggled against him for another moment, which only served to draw their bodies closer together and after a few more fruitless shoves, Hermione felt the last of her resolve ebbing away. She lost herself completely as his familiar scent flooded her senses and his firm, unyielding body pressed up against hers, causing electricity to shoot down her spine and a tingling warmth to spread through her stomach and pool between her thighs. She looked up into his fathomless, molten silver orbs just in time to see him lowering his lips slowly to hers. Her heart felt as though it was about to burst through her chest and she swallowed in nervous anticipation. He continued his painfully slow decent when finally his lips were merely a hairsbreadth away from hers and…

"Draco! There you are!" called a shrill voice that Hermione recognized in an instant.

Draco immediately stood to his full height, released her wrists and turned to face the intruder.

"Impeccable timing as usual Pansy," he drawled, shooting her a scathing look.

"I was worried about you," she cooed. "I wondered what you were doing out here all alone and- What's _she_ doing here?" Pansy snarled, spying Hermione for the first time.

"Not that it's any of your business Pansy, but Hermione and I were just catching up. You know, for old time's sake," he said without missing a beat.

Hermione was still trying to recover from her near heart attack as she hurriedly moved away from him, towards the house.

"It was good to see you again Malfoy. I'm sorry for your loss. I've got to be going now."

She said all of this very quickly before darting inside and snaking her way through the crowded ballroom and down the stairs, not stopping to say goodbye to Luna or collect her wrap on the way to the door. She practically sprinted to the front gate, making a mental note to ask Ginny to teach her the spell she had used on the high heels when they next saw one another. When she finally reached the gate and was safely outside the boundary of the Manor grounds she apparated away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Hermione awoke the next morning after a restless night to find the sun shining brightly in a cloudless blue sky. She took the perfect, warm spring day as a personal insult because it contrasted so sharply with her current mood and the feeling of hopeless gloom that permeated her bedroom. Ginny and Luna were seated on either side of Hermione's bed trying unsuccessfully to console her as she sobbed uncontrollably between them. Ginny made shushing noises and repeatedly tried to offer her a cup of tea, while Luna patted her head and smoothed her hair as she kept up a steady stream of comforting words.

"It'll be alright Hermione," Luna assured her in hushed tones, "everything happens for a reason."

"Bu…but…I…d-didn't…g-get…t-to…t-tell…him…th-that…I..l-love…him…" Hermione wailed.

"It's ok Hermione," Ginny said, enveloping her in a huge hug and rubbing gentle circles on her back, "he knows," she whispered.

"I….d-didn't…even…g-get…to…say….a p-proper…g-goodb-bye…" she sniffed in guilt riddled agony and fell into a renewed fit of sobs as she collapsed backward onto her pillows. Luna reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table and began dabbing at Hermione's grief-stricken face.

"I…j-just…l-love…him…so…m-much," Hermione hiccoughed.

"Of course you do," Luna said as she squeezed Hermione's hand.

"He loved you too, Hermione. I'm sure of it," Ginny added.

"Wh-what…am…I…s-sup-posed…t-to…d-do…without…him?" Hermione moaned.

"You'll just have to carry on Hermione," Luna said simply. "I don't think Crookshanks would want you waste away in here forever."

"I…kn-know…but…it's just so hard to…accept…that…he's…g-gone…" Hermione's whole body was wracked with sobs and she was lost to the outside world.

Ginny and Luna simply sat with her, rubbing her back, sharing her guilt and sorrow as best they could. After about twenty minutes, when Hermione had finally cried herself out, Luna tried to draw her into conversation to distract her from her grief.

"Feeling any better?" Luna asked her.

"A bit," she sighed.

"It'll get easier," Ginny insisted.

"I know," Hermione agreed.

Thinking it might be a good idea to try to change the subject, Luna brought the topic around to last night's ball.

"So Hermione, I never saw you again at the ball last night. What ever happened with Malfoy?" Luna asked as casually as possible.

"Yeah 'Mione, why didn't you tell me the ball was going to be at Malfoy Manor?" Ginny added, bursting with curiosity.

"I didn't know," Hermione replied honestly, "and nothing happened with Malfoy. He was just being his usual prat self." Hermione tried to downplay her exchange with Malfoy, not wanting to divulge their almost kiss to her friends. She wasn't sure how she felt about it herself, as she hadn't had much time to think about it what with Crookshanks and all, and she didn't want any outside opinions on the matter just yet.

"What exactly happened to Malfoy's wife? Who was she anyway?" the curious red-headed queried.

"I don't know any of the particulars, but I did read an article about her in _Witch Weekly_ last month," Luna supplied. "I guess his wife was considerably older than Malfoy and she was extremely wealthy. In fact, I heard that she came from one of the wealthiest pureblood families in all of Europe!" said Luna, sounding rather awestruck, but seeing the despondent look on Hermione's face, she changed tack immediately. "I also heard that she was a miserable cow and that no one could stand her," Luna added quickly.

"It's no wonder she had to buy herself a husband. Who in their right mind would want to saddle themselves with someone like that?" Ginny said vehemently. "How did she die?"

"I heard she died as a result of complications from a series of 'cosmetic enhancement charms,'" Luna said, making a valiant effort to refrain from snickering.

Hermione stayed quiet throughout their exchange. She had heard a similar rumor, but she didn't feel right about speaking ill of the dead. She didn't mind if her friends did it however, as it made for a decent distraction from her grief and it did improve her mood, if only slightly.

"Now, as the sole beneficiary of his wife's estate, Draco is officially the wealthiest and most eligible bachelor in the entire wizarding world," Luna sad with a pointed look at Hermione.

"I can just imagine all the vultures who'll try to sink their claws into him," Ginny said with a look of distaste.

"The vultures are already circling. You should have seen them at the ball. It was disgusting. That Parkinson bint was the worst of the bunch," cried Luna, pulling a face.

"Ooh, I've always hated her," Ginny spat.

"I almost feel sorry for her," Luna said with a sigh.

"Feel sorry for Parkinson? Merlin why?" Ginny asked, incredulous.

"I mean, she fancies herself first in line to become the next Lady Malfoy when it is painfully obvious that Draco's intentions lay in another direction…" Luna smiled at Hermione. "As I said, I almost feel sorry for the poor deluded girl…_almost_," she reiterated with a wicked smile.

"Hermione why didn't you tell us he was still in love with you?" Ginny demanded.

"He isn't," Hermione assured them.

"He i-is," Luna contradicted in a sing-song voice. "You can deny it all you want Hermione, but the way you two were looking at each other last night…" Luna trailed off.

"Oh Luna, don't be ridiculous!" Hermione huffed in indignation.

Luna and Ginny began to giggle and Hermione shot them a dirty look.

"I…think I'll go downstairs and make us some breakfast," Ginny said, wanting to avoid Hermione's mounting ire.

"Good idea," Luna agreed. "I'll help," she added before following Ginny out of the room.

When Hermione was alone again, she allowed her thoughts to drift back to the previous evening. Did he still love her? Did she dare to hope? She sighed. Even if he did love her, could she trust him enough to open her heart to him once more? She would never admit this to anyone, but she had been destroyed when he left her, and though her rational brain reminded her that it hadn't been entirely his fault, she still felt that Draco could have at least tried to persuade his parents to accept their relationship if he'd really wanted to.

Hermione had closed off her heart after that. She rarely accepted dates and when she did, she always found an excuse to break things off shortly thereafter. She threw herself into her work and climbed steadily through the ranks in her department. As it was, she was the youngest assistant department head in the entire Ministry. She tried to convince herself that her career was enough to keep her happy and fulfilled, but when she came home at night to an empty house with only Crookshanks for company…

And now Crookshanks was gone too. She hadn't even been there when he died. The thought of her beloved familiar dying alone brought on more waves of guilt and grief. Hermione was extremely grateful that her friends were not far away and that she didn't have to be alone in her time of mourning.

She really did have wonderful friends. When Hermione had found Crooks seemingly asleep on the couch, but unable to wake up, she immediately called Ginny and with no thought to the lateness of the hour, Ginny rushed straight over and spent the night with Hermione. Luna had arrived early the next morning and helped Ginny take Crookshanks' body outside where they buried him in the back garden under a shady tree while Hermione sat on a nearby bench sobbing her heart out. Luna said a few words over the grave site before the three girls retreated back into the house.

Hermione took some small comfort in the fact that at least it didn't appear as though Crooks had suffered. They surmised that he must have died in his sleep. After all, he was an extremely old cat. He was an old cat when she first bought him and that was more than ten years ago. Despite that, she was unable to rationalize away her grief and she continued to cry and mourn the loss of her cat until Ginny and Luna returned with the breakfast tray.

Apparently Hermione had worked up quite an appetite with all the crying she'd done and she tucked in to the toast with jam and scrambled eggs that Ginny and Luna had made. They ate mostly in silence, each lost in their own thoughts when they heard a knock at the front door.

Ginny volunteered to answer it and, levitating the breakfast tray laden with their empty plates before her, she headed downstairs. Curious as to who could be calling at this time of the morning, she set the tray down on the kitchen counter and went to answer the door.

Her jaw nearly hit the floor when she found Draco Malfoy, looking as though he had just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine, standing on the doorstep with a cup of tea in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in the other and a flat, wrapped box tucked under his arm.

"Are you going to gawk at me all day Red, or are you going to invite me in?" he asked, smirking.

"Oh, right, sure, come on in Malfoy," she faltered and moved aside to allow him to pass into the apartment.

"Nice place," he offered with an approving nod. "Are you and Hermione roommates or something?" he inquired with mild interest.

"Ah, no. Just visiting," Ginny replied.

"Where is Hermione?" Draco asked.

"She's upstairs. I'll go get her for you. Won't you sit down?" Ginny offered, trying desperately to remember her manners and finding it rather difficult with the god-like man standing before her. Shaking her head, she silently reminded herself that she was very happily engaged to Harry and although Ginny would never even dream of being unfaithful, she didn't think there was any harm in simply enjoying the view.

After offering him a cup of tea, which he politely declined, Ginny excused herself and ran from the room, flying up the stairs into Hermione's bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

"'Mione, he's here!" Ginny cried excitedly.

"What do you mean 'he's here'? Who's here?" Hermione demanded with a terrified look at her bedroom door.

"I mean Draco Malfoy is here! He's in your kitchen right now!" Ginny said, practically hopping on the spot.

"Well, tell him to go away. I don't want to see him," Hermione stated stubbornly.

"I can't do that. He brought you tea and flowers and a present," Ginny squealed in excitement.

"Hermione, be reasonable," Luna chided, "you can't very well send a man away when he brings you flowers," Luna added, as if it were the most logical argument in the world.

"I don't care what he does or doesn't bring; I don't want him spending any of his copious fortune on me. I won't be bought," Hermione said defiantly. "And if you won't do it, then I'll just have to go down there and tell him myself."

"But you can't go down there looking like you've just been trampled by a hippogriff!" Ginny said, flabbergast.

"Oh yeah? Watch me."

With that, Hermione hoisted herself out of bed and, not bothering to look at her bushy-haired, puffy-eyed, rumpled pajama-clad appearance, she stormed from the room.

The moment she caught sight of him sitting at her kitchen table, perusing the paper completely at his ease, her breath caught in her throat. Even without the trappings of his tailored dress robes, he really was something to look at. Dressed in casual tan pants and a white oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons left open, he looked the perfect picture of a muggle male model.

"Good morning, Hermione," he said, not even flinching at her appearance as he looked her up and down, "having a bit of a lie-in this morning?" he asked playfully.

When she didn't respond, he continued.

"I didn't realize that you'd have company or I would have brought more tea," he said, smiling at Ginny and Luna.

"Oh, that's very nice of you, but Ginny and I were just leaving, weren't we Ginny?" Luna added when Ginny made no move to extricate herself from her place on the steps behind Hermione.

"Yes, that's right," Ginny said, recovering quickly, "We...er…have to be going now, but we'll see you later okay 'Mione?"

Hermione was staring at her friends with wide pleading eyes, silently begging them not to leave her alone with him, but in the end she merely nodded, sensing defeat as she watched her friends walk towards the door.

"Nice to see you again Draco," Luna called.

"Good to see you too, Lovegood. You and Red should come to my party this weekend. I'll owl you with an invitation later in the week. Weasel and Scarhead are welcome to join you of course," he added, flashing them his trademark smirk.

"Thanks, Malfoy," Ginny said with an air of surprise, "I look forward to it. See you," she called as she and Luna took their leave.

When her friends had turned the corner from the garden path onto the sidewalk beyond and their giggling voices could no longer be heard, Hermione turned to face her guest.

"Alright Malfoy, what are you doing here?" she demanded impatiently.

"I'm well thanks. How are you? Why yes, I'd love a cup of tea," Draco said in a snarky tone. "Where are your manners, Granger?"

She exhaled a long-suffering sigh and said, "Listen Malfoy, I don't have time for your games today. I haven't slept all night and I feel like shit so if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you would leave so that I can go back to bed now."

"I have no intention of playing games of any sort Granger. I just stopped by to give you these," he said, gesturing to the take away cup, the flowers and package on the table. "Though I'm afraid the tea has gone cold."

"I don't want anything you have to give me Malfoy. Unlike the slags you normally associate with, I can't be bought," Hermione said, crossly.

"Well then you'll be pleased to know that aside from the two sickles I paid for the tea, I haven't spent a knut," he said with a smug smile.

"Then where did those come from?" Hermione demanded, pointing at the flowers and the wrapped box with an accusatory glare.

"It just so happens that the flowers came from the gardens behind my house and the box…you'll just have to open it to find out."

Hermione grunted as she whipped the flowers off the table and forcefully shoved them into a vase, filling it with water with a flick of her wand. She plunked the vase on the table and reached for the box. Tearing off the ribbon, she lifted the lid and stifled a small, "Oh." He had returned her wrap from the night before. He really hadn't tried to buy her with presents. She didn't know how to feel about that so she chose to ignore it.

"Thank you for returning my shawl. You certainly didn't have to go to the trouble of wrapping it. You could've just sent it with an owl," she said brusquely.

"Perhaps, but I assure you it was no trouble. The house elves took care of the wrapping and I couldn't see the point in sending an owl when it's such a lovely morning; a perfect day for stroll through muggle London in fact, so I took the liberty of delivering it by hand."

"I've been meaning to ask you about that," she said waspishly, having heard nothing after the words 'house elves.' "How dare you use those poor elves as slave labor, particularly at a fundraiser to promote house elf rights? You are such a hypocrite!" she fumed.

"I'll have you know that each and every one of those house elves is a paid employee, thank you very much."

"You pay your house elves?" she asked, astonished.

"Every last one of them," he confirmed, "though I had to threaten them with clothes to get them to accept a salary."

Hermione didn't know what to make of that either and she didn't think she'd be able to face him without the mask of righteous indignation to cover her battered heart, so she stood from the table and turned away from him under the auspices of making a fresh pot of tea. When she went to fill the kettle at the kitchen sink, she had to fight the tears that threatened to overtake her when she caught sight of Crookshanks empty food and water bowl. Try as she might, she could not stem the flow and she was absolutely furious with herself for allowing an audible whimper to escape her lips.

Draco leapt to his feet when he heard her crying and keeping himself at a respectable distance, he extended a hand and placed it gently on her shoulder.

"Look Hermione, if this is about last night, I'm so sor-"

"I'm not crying over you, you self-centered git!" she shouted, several angry tears sliding down her face. "It's Crookshanks. He...he's gone!" she wailed, striding into the sitting room and collapsing on the couch.

Draco followed and immediately moved to sit beside her, wrapping his arms around her trembling form.

"I'm sure he's not really gone. He'll come back," Draco said hopefully.

Hermione had to stifle a chuckle amidst her tears.

"No, you nit wit, he's dead," she said as she tried to extricate herself from his hold, but he wouldn't allow it. Reluctantly leaning into his embrace, she continued. "We've been together since third year and I don't know what I'll do without him," she admitted, allowing her tears to flow openly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered solemnly, cradling her to him. "I know how much he meant to you."

"Thank you," she said quietly, as she continued to cry into his shoulder.

She couldn't be sure how long he stayed with her on the couch, but he'd held her until her tears subsided and she drifted into a peaceful slumber. When she awoke several hours later he was gone, but there was an envelope lying on her coffee table that definitely hadn't been there before.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The following Monday morning Hermione was sitting in her boss' office eyeing him wearily as he rifled through the contents of the envelope Draco Malfoy had left in her apartment over the weekend. Mr. Diggory, who was silent and stoic on his best days and downright mean and tyrannical on his worst, was positively giddy when he finished reading the contents of Draco's letter. Hermione found this new, cheerful version of her boss rather frightening. She knew how to relate to a grumpy Mr. Diggory, she could even handle a screaming one, but a happy Amos Diggory was an unknown quantity and it left her feeling rather wrong-footed in his presence.

She rightly assumed that the cause of his elation was the fifty thousand galleon check made out to their department that accompanied Malfoy's letter.

"Well," he said as he paced back and forth behind his desk, "I suppose we've discovered the identity of our mystery benefactor then, eh?" Mr. Diggory said, practically skipping with glee.

"I suppose so," Hermione agreed cautiously.

"Nice work Granger," he said heartily as he crossed in front of his desk and slapped her on the back in a congratulatory fashion, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

She spluttered for a moment and said, "I didn't really do anything-"

"Nonsense!" he contradicted. "This is all down to you Granger. Mr. Malfoy made that quite plain in his letter. He is very impressed with your work on house elf rights and he's interested in continuing his financial support of the department. His only stipulation is that you continue to act as the liaison between himself and the Ministry."

Hermione sighed in defeat. She knew this was coming as she had read the letter herself as soon as she'd found it on her coffee table last Saturday afternoon. So determined was she to avoid another meeting with Malfoy that she briefly considered keeping the letter and its contents a secret, however her rational side eventually took over and she realized that it would be far easier to suffer through a few more parties at Malfoy Manor than to face a felony conviction for stealing from the Ministry and spending the next several years rotting in Azkaban. Then again…

"Ms. Granger, I'm sure you understand the importance of this situation and the implications it could mean for the department," Mr. Diggory continued, interrupting her thoughts. "This new…arrangement, for lack of a better word, with Mr. Malfoy is to become your number one priority."

"But sir," Hermione protested, "what about the new legislation for endangered dragons and the Porlock Protection Act?"

"Those will have to take a back seat for now," Amos answered. "Besides, we have plenty of other people in the department who can work on those projects in your absence."

"My absence?" she inquired as a feeling of dread suddenly settled in her stomach.

"Well, yes, I expect you'll have to spend some time away from the office for this…assignment," he explained. "Mr. Malfoy made it clear that in exchange for your cooperation, he would turn all of his upcoming social events into fundraisers and that's in addition to the sizeable donation he's pledged to make himself. I'd imagine that he may need your assistance to organize some of these events. There may also be a few dinners and casual luncheons to discuss various projects that need funding, that sort of thing."

"I see," Hermione said feebly, feeling rather ill.

"Don't look so glum Granger! It's obvious that this Malfoy fellow has taken a fancy to you. The least you can do is humor the bloke. Think of all the good that money will do for the department," he pleaded.

"Do I have a choice?" she sighed.

"No," he stated firmly, momentarily reverting to his usual stern self. "The next event is a formal dinner this Wednesday evening and you had better be there," he threatened menacingly.

"In that case, I suppose I had better go out and buy some new dress robes…" Hermione said, resigned.

"That's the spirit Granger!" Amos encouraged, his high spirits returning.

"Fine, but I expect to be reimbursed for any additional out of pocket expenses," she grumbled.

"Consider it done Granger, consider it done. Now then, back to work!" he cried, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

Hermione was going to kill him. Who the hell did Malfoy think he was anyway? So what if he wasn't trying to buy her with gifts, when the alternative was even worse, for now he was attempting to buy her with charity work and take over her professional life in the process. She was definitely going to kill him.

She kept up a steady stream of darkly muttered threats as she headed back to her office, trying desperately to quell the urge to throttle Draco Malfoy, Amos Diggory or anyone else unfortunate enough to happen upon her that morning.

As she walked by the large reception area at the front of the office, and despite the fact that she usually did her best to ignore the two vapid secretaries who were stationed there, Hermione couldn't help but notice that their usually incessant giggling ceased abruptly the moment she passed. Stopping in her tracks and turning to face them, Hermione eyed the two girls with suspicion.

The girls in question, Astoria Greengrass and Laura Madley, had both gone to Hogwarts, but were several years behind Hermione and had belonged to Slytherin and Hufflepuff house respectively, so she had never really known them in school. However it didn't take Hermione long after their arrival in her department to discover that Tori and Laurie, as they preferred to be called, were not the type of women with whom Hermione was likely to cultivate a lasting friendship.

When she approached the large desk the girls shared, Tori and Laurie both began shuffling papers, and searching through file folders in a vain attempt to appear busy, but Hermione was not so easily fooled.

"Alright," Hermione sighed, "what is it?" she demanded of Astoria, the nearer and bolder of the two girls.

"It's nothing Ms. Granger," Astoria replied, stifling a giggle.

"Spit it out," she said, turning to Laura who was more timid than her former-Slytherin counterpart and therefore more easily intimidated.

"Well…um…that is…what I mean to say is…" she faltered.

"Come on Madley, out with it. I don't have all day."

Hermione was not often one to lose her patience at the office. On the contrary, she was typically the one responsible for doing damage control after one of Diggory's tirades, but today it would seem her patience was already at the breaking point.

"It's just that…um…you haven't seen the morning _Prophet_ yet, have you?" Laura asked, looking positively terrified.

"No… Why?" Hermione asked warily.

In answer, Astoria handed Hermione a copy of _The Daily Prophet_. On the front cover, right at the top of the page in huge black letters the headline read:

**Britain's Most Eligible Bachelor - Searching For A New Wife?**

Below that was a picture of Draco taken at the ball, looking dashing as usual and wearing a self satisfied smirk as he glanced around at the bevy of laughing and simpering witches that surrounded him.

Hermione bit back the scathing remarks that threatened to escape her lips as she struggled to keep her temper in check.

"Is this all?" Hermione questioned with an air of forced calm, trying to sound thoroughly unimpressed.

"Keep reading," Astoria said with a knowing look.

Hermione quickly scanned the article and felt her blood pressure spike with each new paragraph. The first section merely reiterated what everyone already knew about Draco's wife's sudden death and his inheritance of her estate. The next few paragraphs speculated about the real reason for Malfoy's return to Britain, his re-entrance into society and how rumors abounded that all of his recent charity work was actually motivated by a desire to find a new wife. The end of the article was an interview with Draco's long time friend and former girlfriend Pansy Parkinson; this was the part that really made Hermione's blood boil. Not only did Pansy expound upon the Malfoy marriage rumors, but she practically announced their forthcoming engagement. She also made mention of the fact that scores of witches were lining up in a fruitless attempt to catch Draco's eye…

"…Hermione Granger prominent among them!" Hermione read the last part aloud, utterly incredulous. With no regard to the two spellbound witches scrutinizing her every reaction, Hermione continued to read. "Ms. Parkinson claims to have personally witnessed Ms. Granger throwing herself at the Malfoy heir after cornering him in a secluded area of the Manor at a fundraiser for House Elf Rights last Friday evening. As a high-ranking Ministry official in the Department for the Regulation of Control of Magical Creatures and one of the architects behind the House Elf Rights Act, Ms. Granger would stand to gain much more than your average witch by forging an alliance with Mr. Malfoy, calling into question Ms. Granger's methods and motives…" Hermione, remembering that she was in a public place, finished reading in silence.

The article concluded with the reporter's fond wishes for Mr. Malfoy's health and happiness and took the liberty of pointing out the fact that there are still plenty of honest single witches out there (herself included) who are much more worthy of his time and attention.

Hermione had to exercise every ounce of self control she had left in order to keep her hands from shaking in fury. Making a valiant effort to exude a cool, calm demeanor, she sniffed in amusement at the offending rag her in hand.

"Errant nonsense," Hermione huffed indifferently, closing the paper and chucking it unceremoniously into the nearest bin.

"But Ms. Granger, aren't you upset?" Laura asked. "If it were me, I'd be devastated."

"I couldn't care less, I assure you," she lied smoothly with false bravado, but she wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to contain her emotions without making a scene. She needed to get out of there.

"Have you got a quill and some parchment?" she inquired of Laura.

Silently the girl handed Hermione the requested items. Quill in hand, Hermione penned the following note to Ginny:

_ Gin,_

_ Going shopping._

_ Meet in Diagon Alley outside Twilfit & Tatting's in fifteen minutes._

_-Mione_

Hermione rolled up the parchment and magically sealed it before handing it to Laura with instructions to owl it over to Ginny Weasley immediately. The girl took the scroll and with a hurried, "Yes, Ms. Granger," she ran from the room.

"Now," Hermione said turning to Astoria, "why don't you go find something more productive to do with your time? I'm sure the Ministry isn't paying you to sit around gossiping and reading that twaddle all day," Hermione snapped, gesturing toward the newspaper in the bin.

"Yes Ms. Granger," Astoria replied obediently, a smug smile playing about her lips.

Hermione refrained from shooting her a dirty look with great difficulty as she turned away from the younger girl. With stiff shoulders and her face set in a hard line, she marched off around the corner without another word. When she was safely ensconced in the privacy of her own office she slumped into her desk chair, cradled her head in her hands and allowed a few silent tears to roll down her cheeks.

After a few minutes of wallowing, Hermione dried her eyes, sat up, dusted herself off and gathered her things. She wasn't about to let the likes of Pansy Parkinson get her down. She left her office, walked briskly back out to the reception desk, barked to Tori and Laurie to get back to work and ordered them to tell Mr. Diggory that she was leaving for the day to work on her new assignment. Hermione didn't chance a glance at the two girls as she passed, allowing their choruses of 'Yes Ms. Granger,' to echo in her wake.

Five minutes later Hermione exited The Leaky Cauldron, having just flooed over from the Ministry, and strode purposefully down the High Street in Diagon Alley toward Twilfit & Tatting's formal robe shop where she found an anxious looking Ginny waiting for her by the door.

"Finally read the paper have you?" Ginny ask by way of a greeting. "I was waiting by the fire for your call when the Ministry owl arrived. When you said you wanted to go shopping I knew it was serious."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at her dearest friend. The fact Ginny required no explanation for the blatant falsehoods in the _Prophet_ article was one of the things she loved best about the intuitive red-head.

After accepting a huge, comforting hug from Ginny, Hermione spent a few minutes briefly catching her up on Malfoy's visit, the contents of his letter and her new assignment from Mr. Diggory.

"So you see, I need some new dress robes for all of the events I'll have to attend in the next few weeks," Hermione finished, sounding despondent.

"Ok, but are you sure you want to shop here?" Ginny asked, indicating the sign for Twilfit & Tatting's. "You do realize that they are the most expensive robe-makers in the country, right?"

"Yes I am very well aware, but seeing as how the Ministry will be footing the bill…" Hermione couldn't help but smirk, "I thought I might as well treat myself."

"Brilliant," Ginny beamed and the two witches entered the shop.

Whatever Hermione was expecting to find inside Twilfit & Tatting's, this wasn't it. The moment they crossed the threshold into the shop, a welcome witch took their jackets and handbags and ushered them over to a plush sofa that was situated in the back of the shop across from an enormous tri-fold mirror. Hermione incorrectly assumed that shopping in the elite boutique would be much like shopping in any other store. She expected to see racks of gowns and formal robes, but was shocked to find that the shop was largely empty, save for the welcome witch's counter, the huge mirror and a few window displays.

After the welcome witch had supplied them with tea and a selection of biscuits, two more witches dressed in elegant black day robes approached, each carrying a clipboard and magical measuring tape. Once it had been determined that only one of their guests was looking for new robes, the shorter of the two sales witches excused herself and retreated into a back office leaving Hermione and Ginny alone with a beautiful woman who introduced herself as Madam Alessia.

Madam Alessia was a tall, almost statuesque woman who moved with a sort of liquid grace. She had dark, sparkling eyes, dark red hair and crimson lips that were stretched into a dazzling smile. Hermione guessed that she was probably in her early forties, though her skin was flawless and she looked fantastic.

"Have you ever shopped with us before?" Madam Alessia inquired politely.

"No," Hermione answered, her nervousness clearly apparent.

"A first timer? Well then, this is going to be fun," the sales witch smiled.

Hermione merely sat silently ringing her hands around the bottom of her sweater. Madam Alessia extended a hand and she bade Hermione to stand on a small, slightly raised platform before the center panel of the mirror.

"No need to be nervous," she said as she helped Hermione step up onto the platform, "I'll find you the perfect dress robes."

With a wave of her wand, the magical measuring tape Madam Alessia had been carrying instantly began to fly about Hermione's body as a Quick Quotes Quill hovered nearby recording her measurements on the clipboard. As the magical objects worked, the personal shopper witch walked around Hermione, eyeing her critically. Then she started firing off all sorts of questions; questions about what type of event she was attending and where it was being held; questions about her taste and style preferences; then she asked a series of questions that didn't seem to make any sense at all.

"Coffee or tea?" Alessia asked in a businesslike tone.

"Tea…" Hermione responded hesitantly.

"Summer or winter?" the personal shopper witch prompted.

"Er…I guess summer?" Hermione responded, looking warily at Ginny.

"Very good. Morning or evening?" Alessia continued.

"I'm not sure why you're…"

"Don't think. Just react," the mysterious witch said, interrupting her.

"Fine then…morning," Hermione huffed. She was starting to feel ridiculous.

"Ah, just as I thought," Alessia said, glancing at the clipboard. "Lastly, which is your wand hand?" Madam Alessia asked politely.

"Why do you need to know that?" Hermione demanded suspiciously, although it wasn't the strangest question she'd been asked by far.

Madam Alessia smiled fondly at Hermione and replied, "So we'll know which side to place your invisible wand holster of course. We find that our clients appreciate a more stylish and discreet way to carry their wands when they are dressed in formal attire." She winked at Hermione and Ginny. "After all, a witch should never be without her wand!"

Ginny gave Hermione a look that plainly said, "_Impressive_." Hermione was of the opinion that the unknown woman standing before them was either a total genius or completely insane and Hermione wasn't exactly sure she wanted to find out which.

With another wave of her wand, Madam Alessia summoned a whole rack full of robes that came zooming out from a back room and stopped abruptly beside the mirror. She then turned her wand on Hermione and with a flick of her wrist Hermione was left standing in only a pair of nude underwear and a strapless bra that did not belong to her. Thankfully, she also conjured a changing screen that shielded her from view, though apart from Ginny and herself, the shop was completely empty.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hermione demanded angrily. "And where did these come from?" she added, gesturing to the foreign undergarments.

"Relax darling," the older witch soothed, "this is all part of the fitting process. No need to worry. Besides, you've got nothing to be ashamed of," she said as she gazed appreciatively at Hermione's nearly naked form.

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Hermione hissed to Ginny.

"Come on Mione. Just try on some robes and if you don't like anything, we can always try Madam Malkin's," Ginny reassured her friend.

Madam Alessia's eyes visibly narrowed at the mention of Madam Malkin, but she refrained from comment.

"Let's just get this over with," Hermione said, feeling decidedly uncomfortable and liking the woman less and less.

"Certainly," Alessia simpered and with yet another wave of her wand, the first dress appeared on Hermione's body.

It was black and shimmered from top to bottom with what looked like real fairy lights. The bodice was tight fitted to the hip where it flared out to a gigantic full skirt that looked to have about a dozen layers of fabric underneath.

"You'll notice the fine detail along the hem," Alessia said, pointing out some fancy embroidery, "…all hand sewn by house elves. Those little creatures really do remarkable work…"

"No," Hermione said abruptly, "…nothing elf-made."

"She has issues with house elves," Ginny supplied helpfully.

"Understood," the witch said simply, before vanishing half a dozen dresses from the rack. "How about this one?"

Instantly the black dress had been replaced with a light pink frilly number that was covered in lace and rather reminded Hermione of the dress robes Pansy Parkinson had worn to the Yule Ball in their fourth year.

Pulling a face, Hermione merely said, "Pink? Really?"

"Next!" Ginny said playfully, shaking her head at the ghastly gown.

Without a word the pink dress was gone along with two of its similar hued fellows on the rack. In its place was a gorgeous royal blue strapless satin gown with a tapered A-line skirt. It was simple, elegant, understated and the color looked absolutely gorgeous with Hermione's fair skin.

"Oh, Mione," Ginny gushed. "You look stunning! I think this is the one."

"I don't know. It's just so…strapless," Hermione said, not knowing what else to say about the beautiful garment. "With my clumsiness, I'd be liable to step on it and pull the top right down – trust me, it would only end in tragedy."

"Hermione," Ginny chided, "don't worry about that, they have charms to safe guard against those sorts of wardrobe malfunctions. You know, for the brightest witch of the age, you are woefully uninformed when it comes to beauty charms."

"That's not the only topic she's uninformed about," Pansy Parkinson sneered from behind the rack of remaining dress robes. "I mean, really, thinking that it was a good idea to throw yourself at Draco like that? That must have been so humiliating for you," Pansy said in a voice laden with false concern.

"You picked the wrong day to mess with me Parkinson," Hermione warned, frantically searching her nonexistent pockets for her wand.

"I was merely trying to save you the embarrassment of going after Draco when everyone knows that he's going to marry a pureblood. Even if he is interested in taking you spin for old time's sake, he could never get serious with someone of your…parentage," Pansy stated triumphantly.

"Back off Parkinson," Hermione said through a clenched jaw, fists balled at her sides. "I'm not going to say it again."

Pansy ignored her and went on heedlessly.

"Frankly I'm surprised to see the likes of you in here, _mudblood_," Pansy taunted. "I didn't think they catered to your kind in this shop."

_Mudblood_. That did it. Hearing the old slur from Pansy's foul lips was enough to cause the last thread of Hermione's barely controlled temper to snap. She lunged herself at the startled former Slytherin, attempting to throttle the pug-nosed bint with her bare hands, all thoughts of her wand forgotten. Pansy was so taken aback she didn't even bother to raise her own wand in self defense, however before Hermione could do any damage, strong hands gripped her arms and pulled her away.

Ginny, who was much stronger than her small frame implied, due mainly to years of professional Quidditch training, stood behind Hermione, keeping both of her arms in a tight hold as she tried to talk some sense into her friend.

"Leave it Mione. She's not worth it," Ginny said, maintaining her grip.

"You listen here Parkinson," Hermione spat, "if you ever discuss any part of my life in an interview ever again…if you so much as mention my name aloud…" Hermione let the threat hang in the air as she struggled against Ginny's iron grip.

Meanwhile, Madam Alessia was close to an apoplectic fit.

"Please Miss, control yourself. That is a five thousand galleon gown you're wearing! And Miss Parkinson, you know the rules. No, entering the fitting area when it is in use. Please wait outside. The dress robes you ordered are ready and I'm sure Katrina will be with you in a moment," she finished in a huff, eyeing Pansy with dislike.

When Pansy was out of sight and Ginny was sure she wouldn't go chasing after her, she released Hermione's hands. Hermione stepped down off the platform, retrieved her own wand from the pocket of her folded pants and giving it a wave, redressed herself and handed the now hanging gown to Madam Alessia.

"I'll take it," she said matter-of-factly.

"Excellent," Madam Alessia said, trying to regain her cheerful demeanor. "Right this way," she added as she led Hermione and Ginny back out to the front of the store towards the welcome witch's station.

Pansy was there, leaning against the counter, idly thumbing through the latest Twilfit & Tatting's catalogue and looking for all the world as though she couldn't care less about the fact that Hermione had just tried to rip her head off, though Hermione was sure that even Pansy wasn't fool enough to say anything to her now that she had her wand at the ready. With that comforting thought, Hermione approached the counter to pay for her new dress robes.

Looking anywhere but at Pansy, Hermione settled her transaction with the welcome witch and made to leave the suddenly cramped shop when she heard Pansy's shrill voice call over her shoulder, "I suppose I'll be seeing you on Wednesday Granger."

"Yes I suppose you will," Hermione called back through gritted teeth.

"Do try not to embarrass yourself this time," Pansy responded and though Hermione was dying to curse her into oblivion, Ginny held on to her wand arm and ushered her from the shop.

"She's just jealous Hermione," Ginny said when they were well out of earshot. "She sees that Malfoy is so obviously in love with you and she's trying to get a rise out of you."

"I wish that were true, Ginny," Hermione sighed dejectedly, for she couldn't help but think that there might be some credence to Pansy's words. "I wish that were true."

With a parting word of thanks to her friend, Hermione whipped out her wand and apparated back home to her lonely little flat.

**A/N: I use the words gown, dress and dress robes interchangeably in this story. I am assuming that muggle fashions have worked their way into wizarding wardrobes. **

**About the whole random questions bit - I knew a guy who claimed that he could tell pretty much everything he needed to know about a woman by the way she answered the following questions:**

** Coffee or tea?**

** Beatles or Elvis?**

** Clooney or Pitt? (Could also be replaced with Affleck or Damon)**

**For the record, I'm a tea, Beatles, Clooney (or Affleck as the case may be). I'm not sure what that means, but I was thinking about it this week and decided to include it in this chapter just for my own personal giggles. **

**I would also like to reiterate the fact that these chapters were written quickly and without the benefit of a beta, so please forgive any errors. If you notice anything amiss, I'd love to hear about it. Please let me know in a PM or a review so that I can fix it. I just wanted to get this story out of my system so I can get back to my other fic. **

**Sorry for the lag time in publishing this chapter. Since my last update I have driven 750 miles all over the eastern seaboard, had zero days off, had to deal with a family emergency and spent two days vomiting my guts out thanks to a nasty bout of food poisoning. I hope to have quicker updates now that my life is somewhat back to normal. **

**Cheers to those who reviewed/alerted/favorited!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Hermione was idly drumming her fingers on her empty wine glass as she sat in a far corner of the grand ballroom at Malfoy Manor the following Wednesday evening. She wasn't paying much attention to the flurry of activity that surrounded her, though a veritable army of tuxedo-clad house elves was hard at work levitating small tables and chairs and moving them to the edges of the room, while party guests stood by chatting, sipping champagne and anxiously awaiting the next portion of the evening's activities. This party had been a dinner affair and now the dancing was set to begin_. Fan-bloody-tastic_, she thought. Hermione was not fond of dancing, especially when everyone in the room would be staring at her because her name had been popping up in the newspaper so often that week.

She had suffered through the seven course formal dinner, barely eating a bite and fighting the urge to blush furiously and run from the table every time one of the party guests shot her a pointed look or stopped their conversations abruptly as soon as her presence was noticed. She hadn't spoken a word to Draco all evening. She was still extremely angry with him for trying to interfere with her career and she was therefore grateful that she had been seated as far away from him as it was possible to be, which was a considerable distance as the large rectangular table easily sat a hundred people. Despite the distance Hermione still had a clear view of Pansy, who was seated directly on Malfoy's left. She watched in disgust as her raven-haired rival simpered and smirked and touched Draco's arm every time she laughed at one of his jokes. She assumed that the seating arrangements had been Pansy's doing and she tried to relish the fact that Pansy's plan had backfired because Hermione didn't want to sit next to Malfoy anyway, but try as she might not to look at the dashing blonde at the head of the table, Hermione's gaze constantly sought out her former love. She kept reminding herself that she wasn't supposed to care anymore and she tried in vain to focus her attention on someone else, _anyone_ else, but she couldn't look away. The moment the two hour dinner had finally ended she had leapt up out of her seat and escaped to the loo for a moment of peace and solitude before the company was set to move into the ballroom for cocktail hour.

Hermione had slipped into the now familiar ballroom long after the other guests had begun drinking and socializing, having shut herself in the loo for about fifteen minutes in order to regain some sense of calm. She had sidled into the room as inconspicuously as possible and made her way to a small table in the corner closest to the main door. She had situated herself behind a giant ice sculpture depicting a unicorn with a huge serpent slinking around its legs. She sat there throughout the entire cocktail hour not talking to anyone and trying desperately not to be noticed. Though she was furious at being forced to attend the evening's event, she took small comfort in the fact that no one was going to be able to force her to have a good time. Hermione planned to sit resolutely in her corner by the door so that she might slip out unnoticed the moment decorum would allow.

When the house elves finished their work and the dance floor was clear, Hermione heard the distinct sounds of an orchestra being tuned. She stood briefly to see that a bandstand had been conjured in the opposite corner of the room from where she sat, nearer the entrance to the terrace. As soon as they began to play, hordes of happy couples made their way to the center of the room and started dancing a wizard's waltz. The steps were not unlike those she performed during first dance at the Yule Ball during her fourth year at Hogwarts, however Hermione was unfamiliar with this particular waltz and she therefore watched the dancing couples with mild interest.

From her vantage point Hermione could just make out a familiar head of blonde hair encircled by over a dozen cloying witches. She mentally scolded herself for allowing her gaze to seek out their charming host yet again and she had to beat back the green eyed monster that threatened to steal her sanity as she sat observing Draco's behavior toward his harem. She noted that while he seemed to accept the witches' attention with pleasure, he didn't seem to be partial to any one in particular. This raised Hermione's spirits a bit. She continued to watch him surreptitiously from between the iced unicorn's legs as he selected a dance partner (who wasn't Pansy Parkinson - thank Merlin) and escorted her to the dance floor, leaving a trail of unhappy witches in his wake.

Draco guided his partner expertly across the floor, seamlessly entering the waltz already in progress. He was strong, lithe and graceful as he moved. His partner looked as though her feet were barely touching the ground as he whirled and spun her around the room. As she watched them, Hermione couldn't help but remember the first time Draco had asked her to dance…

_It was at the Yule Ball during their fourth year. Hermione was sitting with a group of boys from Durmstrang while Victor went to fetch drinks. She smiled to herself as she watched Victor cross the great hall. Heads turned wherever he went, but Victor didn't seem to notice. That was one of the things she liked best about her Bulgarian beau. She still couldn't believe that out of all the admiring witches from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons combined, that he had chosen to ask her to be his date for the ball. She'd never forget the looks on Ron and Harry's faces as she entered the hall on the arm of the world famous Quidditch player. Merlin, even Malfoy had been rendered speechless as she passed. That had certainly been a first. Never before had he been unable to think of an insult to throw at her. _

_As she waited for Victor to return, a tall, good-looking Bulgarian boy, who appeared to be much older than Hermione's fifteen years, tried to engage her in conversation. They spoke pleasantly for a few moments (as much as his broken English would allow) before they were interrupted, not by Victor but none other than Draco Malfoy. _

_He loomed over them looking almost vampiric with his pale skin contrasting so sharply with his black velvet dress robes as he addressed Hermione. _

"_Excuse me Miss Granger, I couldn't help but notice that your escort has seemingly abandoned you. Might I be so bold as to ask for the next dance?"_

_Hermione felt as though she had been hit full in the face with a stunning spell. Had she gone round the twist or did Draco Malfoy actually just ask her to dance? This must be some sort of joke. She would sooner expect to see hippogriffs flying out of Crabbe's backside before Draco Malfoy would even deign to speak to her, never mind ask her to dance – in front of the entire school no less. _

_She wasn't sure how long she stared at him totally gob-smacked, looking like a fish out of water as her mouth opened and closed several times without articulating a single syllable. She shook her head to clear it and before making another attempt at speech, she glanced over Malfoy's shoulder at the room at large trying to spot Victor. She didn't see him at the refreshment table or anywhere else for that matter and she wondered vaguely where he could have gone. _

"_Miss Granger?" Draco prompted when he didn't receive a response. _

"_Oh…well…I hadn't thought that…I mean…I had better wait for Victor to come back with the drinks. It would be horribly rude of me to-" _

"_It doesn't appear that Mr. Krum will be returning any time soon…" he said smoothly, effectively interrupting her incoherent stammering, "…and it would be a terrible pity for the loveliest witch in the room to sit around waiting for a brainless bloke who is obviously not worth her consideration when she should be dancing," he added, flashing her his trademark smirk. "If you were my date, I wouldn't let you out of my sight for a second."_

_It was clear that someone had spiked her pumpkin juice because she was obviously having some sort of wild hallucination. Either that or Malfoy was setting her up to fall for some elaborate prank. In any event, she tried to put a stop to it. _

"_Speaking of dates…" she said, pleased to find that she had regained the power of speech, "aren't you supposed to be here with Pansy Parkinson?"_

"_Yes," he replied simply, "but Pansy has absconded with Ms. Greengrass to the ladies room at present and it is unlikely that she'll return before the next song is over."_

"_Well I still don't think that I should…" she tried to protest but he cut her off again._

"_Please?" he asked, staring intently into her eyes. _

_Before she could say another word he reached for her hand and, drawing her slowly out of her chair and onto the dance floor, he led her to the very center of the room. He encircled one of her small hands with his larger one as he placed his other hand around her waist and began guiding her effortlessly to the time of the music. One by one, heads turned in their direction until almost all of the other couples on the dance floor had stopped to watch them. He twirled her under his arm and swept her gracefully back into his tight embrace in one fluid motion, smirking at her gasp of surprise at their sudden closeness. _

_As he wheeled her in front of the staff table where all of the professors were seated, Hermione could've sworn that she saw Dumbledore wink at them. Even Snape glanced up at them with a look of barely concealed incredulity. She was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable. _

"_I'm…not a very good dancer," she said sheepishly, completely at a loss for anything else to say. _

"_I think you're an excellent dancer, Hermione."_

_It was the first time he had ever spoken her given name and it sent shivers down her spine. Even if this was a dream or a hallucination, she decided then and there that she definitely didn't want it to end. _

_His mellifluous voice captured her attention once again._

"_I watched you during the first dance of the evening and thought that you were exquisite, even if you did have to maneuver around that great lumbering oaf," he smirked again. _

_Despite the flutter in her stomach at his words, she felt the need to defend Victor, whom she had forgotten about until that moment. _

"_Victor isn't an oaf. He's a wonderful person and I was delighted to dance with him," she defended somewhat lamely. _

"_I see," he said, his smile faltering. "Should I assume that you and _Victor _are dating then_?_" he asked in a tone that was dripping with distaste._

"_Well, I wouldn't say that we're dating. I mean, I did agree to be his date this evening and we do study together at the library rather frequently, but I don't think that necessarily constitutes as dating," she said nervously. _

"_Good," he said, offering her no other explanation or reply. _

_They spent the remainder of the dance in silence. When the song came to a close and the final notes faded and died, Draco held onto her hand for a long moment and bent to place a gentle kiss upon it before turning away from her to rejoin his friends at the Slytherin table. _

_Hermione stood dazedly where Draco had left her in the middle of the dance floor until Victor returned and tried to explain his absence, but she couldn't quite focus on his words. She spent the rest of the evening with her date, but her mind was elsewhere and her gaze constantly flickered to the enigmatic blonde who had so effectively taken her breath away. _

That was how everything had started, with a simple dance. Before the end of the Christmas holiday that year Draco had cornered Hermione in the library and asked her to accompany him on the next Hogsmeade weekend. Naturally, she'd accepted his offer and the rest, as they say, is history. She and Draco had been practically joined at the hip for the next three and half years until…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice, magically magnified, calling for everyone's attention. Hermione stood up and peered around the tail of the ice sculpted snake to get a better view of the proceedings.

"Please excuse the interruption ladies and gentlemen. I do hope you're all having a good time. As I'm sure you know, this evening is meant to help raise funds for endangered magical creatures. With that goal in mind, I'd like for the next dance to be wizard's choice. Any gentlemen willing to donate five hundred galleons to the cause may dance with the lady of his choosing."

There were murmurs of approval from several wizards in the crowd, while the witches were all but jumping out of their shoes at the chance to dance with Draco himself.

"I do hope you ladies will be amenable. Remember, it's for a good cause after all," he added as he flashed his most winning smirk causing several of the witches in attendance to giggle and swoon.

Hermione merely rolled her eyes as she returned to her hiding spot behind the frozen unicorn, debating whether or not she should summon a house elf to bring her a fresh drink.

She was glad to be relatively hidden from view during the mayhem that ensued the moment Draco stepped down off the bandstand. Witches of all ages and stations – single or not - were crowded around him now, trying their best to get his attention. Hermione almost felt badly for the other wizards in the room, as most were finding it rather difficult to secure a dance partner. In the center of the fray, Hermione spotted Pansy aggressively elbowing her way to the front of the crowd and throwing herself right in Draco's path. Hermione turned away and lowered her eyes, unable to stomach the idea of seeing Pansy wrapped in Draco's warm embrace. Sitting with her chin resting on one hand, she wondered vaguely if anyone would actually notice if ducked out early and went home.

"Excuse me Miss Granger, might I be so bold as to claim the next dance?"

Her head snapped up at the familiar voice speaking such familiar words and was shocked to see Draco standing before her, sporting a lopsided smirk. She was quite sure that her heart stopped beating for a long moment and she couldn't decide whether she should feel elated, relieved, angry, or a combination of the three so she settled for a non-committal, "I'm sorry Malfoy, but I don't dance."

"Au contraire Granger, I happen to know for a fact that you do dance, extremely well as a matter of fact."

"Well I don't dance anymore," she huffed, having to remind herself that she was indeed still angry with him.

"How unfortunate… I think it a terrible pity to see the loveliest witch in the room sitting down, skulking behind an ice sculpture when she should be dancing."

"First of all, haven't you come up with any new lines in all these years Malfoy? And secondly, I am not skulking," she retorted indignantly.

"Ah, so you do remember," he said with a triumphant smirk.

She stared at him in annoyance, but didn't respond.

"Come along now Granger, I paid good money for this dance."

At his words something in her brain clicked and she was suddenly struck with an idea.

"So you have Malfoy… Alright then, lead on," she said as she offered him her hand.

He threw her a fleeting look of suspicion before capturing her proffered hand and ushering her through the crowd of irate and incredulous witches. As Hermione suspected, he led them right to the center of the dance floor, much as he had done all those years ago at the Yule Ball. This played perfectly into Hermione's plan. She gently extricated herself from his hold, saying that she wanted to make a quick announcement about the fundraiser. He raised his eyebrows at her skeptically as he was well aware of her abhorrence for public speaking and being in the spotlight in general, but made no comment and released her hand.

If there was anyone in the room who hadn't been looking at her before, they were definitely watching her now as she made her way up to the bandstand and cast a _Sonorus_ charm to magnify her speaking voice. Just looking out over the expectant crowd was enough to make her face flush red and her palms sweat, but she mustered all her courage and addressed the room with an air of confidence that was completely at odds with how she truly felt.

"Pardon me for interrupting, but I've just had an idea for another fundraiser. You see, Draco Malfoy has offered me his 'wizard's choice' dance and I'd like to auction it off to the highest bidder."

Gasps could be heard from all corners of the room.

"What do you say ladies? What would some one-on-one time with Britain's Best Bachelor be worth to you? Shall I start the bidding at say…ten thousand galleons?"

Impenetrable silence followed her speech.

Draco made his way up to the bandstand and whispered, "I thought this was a gentlemen's choice Granger."

Hermione momentarily removed the vocal magnifying spell and bent down to speak with Draco so that only he could hear.

"It was…until I accepted the dance that is. The dance is mine now and consequently I can do whatever I like with it. Slytherins aren't the only ones who can fight dirty you know."

She ventured a glance at Draco and rather than looking upset, she noted the amused smile playing about his lips as he raised his hands in mock defeat and made his way back into the throng of disbelieving guests. Undaunted, she recast the _Sonorus_ charm and continued.

"Come now ladies…gentlemen? It's for a good cause…and think of all you could stand to gain personally…" she said in a tempting tone.

She could scarcely believe her own daring. It was as if all of the bitterness, jealousy and anger she had been feeling all week had finally found an outlet for release. _They're all here hoping to make money, not spend it. Vultures. Good luck with your search for a wife Malfoy_, she thought bitterly. However, when no one made a move to bid, or to say anything for that matter, the awkwardness of the situation began to set in. The tension was palpable. Every eye was upon her and no one smiled or said a word, except for Pansy who was smirking widely at Hermione's growing discomfort.

All of a sudden, a decidedly male voice shouted "Ten thousand galleons!" and all eyes abruptly turned toward Draco who had his hand raised in the air. Hermione removed her _Sonorus_ charm once more, feeling horribly embarrassed.

"You don't have to do this Draco…"

"Apparently I do," he offered with an air of good humor. "I can't even seem to give a dance away, never mind charge money for one!"

A few people laughed and the tension in the room lifted a bit.

"Er…alright then…ten thousand going once, twice, three times to Mr. Draco Malfoy," she said quickly and very quietly, blushing furiously all the while.

Draco motioned for the band to start playing again and for his guests to resume their dancing as Hermione made to step down off the bandstand. She was hoping to make it to the door without incident so that she could go about the business of digging herself a nice deep hole in the ground where she could crawl in and never have to be seen or heard from again. Naturally, he thwarted her plans and met her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Malfoy, you really didn't have to…"

"Care to join me on the terrace for a little chat Granger?" he said as he helped her down the last step.

"I'd really rather go home," she said, utterly embarrassed. "And must you always interrupt me like that?" she snapped, betraying a bit of her earlier annoyance.

"I'm just trying to stop you from saying something else you're likely to regret later. Besides, do you really want to start an argument about that right now? I just paid ten thousand, five hundred galleons for one bloody dance with you and I intend to collect."

Somehow he'd made her feel like a schoolgirl all over again, but not in the good way. She was supposed to be the one who was angry at him, but his words brought her up short.

"The least you can do is talk to me," he said when, once again, she didn't respond.

He looked at her with those fathomless grey eyes, his expression unreadable, then turned from her and stepped through the open door. She sighed, conceding defeat and followed him out onto the terrace.

**A/N: Even I think that Draco's dialogue in the flashback scene is way beyond that of a 14-yr-old boy, but I couldn't help myself! That's why they call it fantasy, right? Not that I fantasize about 14-yr-old boys – that's just gross – unless you're a 14-yr-old girl I suppose. In any case, I do hope that you'll indulge my creative license in this instance. I warned that there would be fluff! I assure you that my next story will be much more realistic - at least as realistic as Harry Potter fan fiction can rightly be called. **

**Thanks again to all who have read/reviewed/etc… your input is very much appreciated. I think I'm going to be able to wrap this story up in two more chapters, though chapter six is going to be tough for me to write. Not to ruin any surprises but…lemons ahead! I've never written anything like that before so it's going to be a challenge. Plus I've put some literary constraints on myself in the way that I'm going to construct that chapter so I'm in a bit of a conundrum and the next update will likely take me some time. That said, I've written a good chunk of the last chapter already so I'll definitely have the story done by the end of the month…I hope. **

**Cheers!**

**p.s. I'm going to the International Quidditch World Cup in NYC tomorrow and I'm super excited!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Hermione allowed Draco to lead her toward a dimly-lit, secluded area of the expansive terrace which stretched along the back of the manor and nearly equaled the length of the enormous house.

Neither spoke as they walked; both were consumed with their own thoughts. The silence was horribly awkward, but Hermione had no intention of speaking first since she had not fully recovered from her earlier embarrassment - not to mention the fact that she had absolutely no idea what to say. She merely followed mutely behind as Draco ambled slowly toward the opposite end of the house. Roundabout the midway point, roughly thirty meters from where they started, Draco stopped suddenly and strode toward the ledge, turning his body to face the gardens and leaning forward so that his elbows rested on the balustrade. The silence hung thickly between them for several long moments. He wouldn't even look at her. This made Hermione nervous and she began to wonder if he'd led her this far away from the ballroom on purpose so that he might berate her for her disgraceful stunt during the auction without having to make a scene in front of his guests.

Expelling an exasperated sigh, Draco finally broke the unbearable tension.

"Did Krum ever tell you where he went that night at the Yule Ball when we first danced?"

Whatever Hermione was expecting Draco to say, it wasn't that. Though she still felt rather ill-at-ease and didn't have the first clue as to what Draco was getting at, she thought it safe to answer the question.

"Er…I don't really remember. I think he said something about walking back to the Durmstrang ship, but I can't be sure. I do remember that he seemed rather disoriented at the time…" she said, feeling rather confused herself.

"I'm surprised at you Hermione. Brightest witch of the age and you didn't notice… Though I suppose you were rather distracted yourself that evening…" he said, more to himself than to her.

Hermione still didn't have any idea what Draco was on about, but she relaxed a little when she saw the ghost of a smirk flash across his face. Apparently he was indulging in a humorous memory and she waited patiently for him to clue her in on the joke.

"I confunded Krum that night," he said after a moment's silent musing. "I had been watching the two of you all evening, waiting for my chance. I had to endure several hours of watching as you danced with him, smiled at him and held his hand. It was intolerable. I was so jealous I could barely see. You looked so lovely that night," he added with another sigh, still resolutely avoiding Hermione's questioning gaze. "When Krum finally left you to go to the refreshment table, I snuck up behind him and cast the charm. I made him think that he'd forgotten something on the ship so that he'd be out of the way and I'd have a chance to be alone with you, if only for a moment…"

Hermione was stunned speechless. All the years they had spent together and she had never known. Too shocked even to register her feelings on his declaration, she continued to listen raptly to his monologue.

"Naturally, the moment Krum had gone some other Bulgarian bloke tried to catch your attention, but I wasn't about to be so easily thwarted. It had been my intention to ask you to the ball all along, you know. I had been observing you for months and I was in the library the day Krum asked you. If only I'd gotten there five minutes sooner… though perhaps that wouldn't have mattered. Your opinion of me was pretty firmly decided by that point," he said, turning to look at her for the first time since they'd left the ballroom.

"Draco…I…I had no idea," Hermione said, completely flabbergasted. "Until that evening at the ball, I'd always assumed you hated me. Even after we danced... If there hadn't been over a hundred and fifty eye witnesses, I myself wouldn't have believed it had actually happened."

"Hermione I never hated you. How could I? You were smart, kind, beautiful and the most magically powerful witch I'd ever met - you still are all of those things. I merely teased you when we were children because I was too young and too stupid to think of a better way to get your attention."

"I hardly think calling someone a 'mudblood' can be classified as mere teasing," she said matter-of-factly, choosing to ignore the butterflies in her stomach that began fluttering the moment he'd said that she was beautiful.

"You know how I was raised. That word got thrown around a lot in my house. I just thought it was another curse word. When I finally learned what it really meant, I stopped using it."

That much was true. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember a single occurrence of Draco calling her 'mudblood' after their third year. Before she could ruminate any further on the subject, Draco looked her full in the face, his eyes practically boring holes into her own and her breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his gaze.

"Hermione, will you dance with me?" he asked solemnly, his expression almost pleading. "This is the last time I'm going to ask."

The bottom of Hermione's stomach dropped to her ankles as he stared at her. She clenched her fists tightly by her sides in a desperate attempt to keep her hands from shaking. She tentatively met his gaze, swallowed nervously to forestall speaking and frantically willed her cheeks to stop blushing. She had never met another person who could make her feel so thoroughly undone.

"Alright," she said quietly.

Without another word Draco approached her and coaxed her hands to relax into his with only the slightest touch. Unlike their first dance all those years ago he didn't bother to start them off in the proper waltzing position, pulling her instead into a close embrace. Hermione melted into his strong arms as he pressed her cheek firmly to his chest and she inhaled his familiar scent. He had one arm wrapped securely around her waist, while the other played absently with one of her curls. The distant sounds of the orchestra floated out to the terrace where they revolved slowly on the spot, illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon.

Hermione recognized the tune at once – an orchestral arrangement of Debussy's _Beau Soir_. It was a song that she and Draco had danced to many times in the past. In fact, it was the last song they danced to at the Hogwarts graduation ball, moments before his parent's whisked him away to France to get married. As much as the memory depressed her, it was impossible to dwell on such thoughts as Draco held her closely and whispered the song's lyrics in her ear…

_Lorsque au soleil couchant les rivières sont roses_

_Et qu'un tiède frisson court sur les champs de blé,_

_Un conseil d'être heureux semble sortir des choses_

_Et monter vers le coeur troublé._

Hermione felt both his breath whispering against her ear and the low rumble of his soothing voice reverberating in his chest beneath her fingers. She was blissful in that moment. Nothing could touch them in their perfect bubble of warmth, both reveling in the melancholic beauty of the winding melody – rising and falling as they breathed.

_Un conseil de goûter le charme d'être au monde_

_Cependant qu'on est jeune et que le soir est beau,_

_Car nous nous en allons, comme s'en va cette onde:_

_Elle à la mer, nous au tombeau._

They continued to dance long after the orchestra stopped playing, neither one willing to break the spell. Hermione kept her face buried in Draco's chest so that he wouldn't see the silent tears streaming down her face. Despite her attempt to hide them, Draco brought a hand to her face and gently brushed the tears from her cheeks.

"Why are you crying Hermione?" he asked in a voice so tender that it brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes.

Why was she crying? She was crying for what they had lost and for what they might have been. She cried because she knew that the moment they ended the dance, he would be lost to her once more. She cried because she still loved him and it didn't matter whether he loved her or not because in the end he would have to marry a pureblood. Although he was of legal age and free to make his own decisions, she was sure that there would be some stipulation in his wife's will to the effect that if he didn't marry a pureblood then he would likely lose his fortune. Deciding it was best to avoid that topic, she opted to tell him half-truths.

"It's just that song…it's so sad and so beautiful…and I haven't heard it in such a long time. I forgot how much I loved that song," she sighed. "I'm just feeling a bit nostalgic I guess."

All of those things were true enough and though he could probably tell that she was withholding something from him, he didn't press her and she was grateful for it. He simply held her to him and Hermione knew that he understood.

As they clung to one another in the waning moonlight a clock chimed midnight and over the tolling of the bell they could hear the distant chattering of the crowd as the guests made to take their leave.

"Do you need to go in and say a proper goodnight to your guests?" Hermione asked, trying not to sound too disappointed at the thought of losing his warmth.

"No. The house elves will show everyone out. The only thing I need to do is be here with you," he said and he smiled a broad, genuine smile.

Hermione said nothing as Draco led them over to the balustrade and pressed his body up against hers. He stood behind her, rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped his arms securely around her waist so that they were both looking out over the moonlit lake.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked softly in her ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hummed.

She couldn't remember the last time she felt as safe and content as she did in his arms at that moment. They stayed like that for a long time, watching the moon's reflection shimmering on the surface of the lake, not saying a word.

When the last of the voices of the retreating guests finally faded, Draco turned Hermione so that she was facing him.

"Would you like to come in for a drink?" he asked in a voice that was smooth as silk.

Normally Hermione never accepted late night drink offers, knowing full well what such invitations usually implied, but she decided that tonight was not the time to worry about propriety. She would let herself have this night because it would probably be the last of its kind – her last chance to say goodbye to Draco once and for all.

She nodded in acquiescence and linked her arm through his as he escorted her into the manor though the nearest door. Though it was pitch black, she could tell by their echoing footsteps that the room was very large and had extremely high ceilings. The most striking feature in the room however was the familiar scent. She felt as though she had been there before and thought she knew where they must be.

Hermione allowed Draco to lead her over to what felt like a soft leather sofa or large loveseat. She could hear his careful footfalls on the marble floor as he made his way across the room. With a muttered _Incendio_, Draco lit a roaring fire in the enormous hearth which cast an orangey glow on the magnificent room.

She was quite right to think that she had been in the room before. This place was one she often visited in her dreams - for a variety of reasons. At face value, the library at Malfoy Manor was nothing short of spectacular. It was a great deal larger than the library at Hogwarts, or even the research library at the Ministry. Two full floors of wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling books on every topic imaginable. While the sight of all those ancient tomes was awe-inspiring in its own right, for Hermione this library held much more personal significance. For it was here, in this very room that she and Draco's relationship was truly manifested for the first and last time…

_Hermione clutched Draco's hand tightly as he led her into the dark, cavernous room. She couldn't be sure if the room was actually dark or if it was simply the effect of the magical blindfold Draco had forced her to wear, but she could tell by the way their voices and footsteps echoed off the walls that the this was by far the largest room she had yet to 'see'. _

_After a blissful day of picnicking on the perfectly manicured manor grounds and exploring the extensive gardens enjoying the first truly warm day of the season, Draco had taken her on a tour of the manor itself. While there wasn't time to see the whole manor - that would have taken weeks judging by the sheer size of the place - he had shown her all of his favorite spots and this room was supposed to be the last stop on the tour. He had forced the blindfold on her arguing that he wanted the grand finale to be a surprise. Though Hermione typically didn't care for surprises, she trusted Draco implicitly and she was therefore more than willing to, quite literally, blindly follow wherever he led. _

_The moment they had crossed the threshold Hermione was struck by the oddly familiar scent of leather and old parchment. As Draco led her further into the room she turned her head from side to side in a fruitless attempt to get her bearings and she absently swatted at the black cloth magically obscuring her vision in frustration. _

"_Not yet," Draco whispered in her ear, effectively catching her off guard and sending shivers running down her spine. "Haven't you guessed where we are yet?" he asked as he took her hand and ran her fingers over something cool, hard and smooth immediately in front of her. _

_Turning to one side, Hermione felt her way along a seemingly endless wall of…_

"_Books!" she suddenly cried. "We're in a library!"_

"_Full marks Ms. Granger," Draco teased. "I swear you are the only person I know who could sound this excited to be in a library during the holidays," he said with a smile as he waved his wand lazily over her eyes and cast a non-verbal _Finite_, causing Hermione's blindfold to disappear. _

_Hermione could only gasp when the _Obscurus_ charm had finally been lifted. The library was large enough to comfortably fit an entire Quidditch pitch inside. She didn't know where to look first. It was all too much to take in. _

"_I've pulled a few things that I think you may find interesting," Draco said, diverting her attention to a table at the other side of the room. She joined him at the table and nearly burst with excitement when she saw what had been laid out before her. _

"_You have a first edition of _Advanced Transfiguration_? And _A History of Magic!"_ Hermione exclaimed with a mixture of disbelief and glee as she removed the first two tomes from the pile revealing a third beneath them. "Holy mother of Merlin…that's never-"_

"…_a first edition of _Hogwarts: A History?" _Draco finished for her as she reverently caressed the binding of the beloved book_. "_It is indeed. In fact, this entire wall is made up of first editions," he said, gesturing to the wall behind him, sounding only a little bit smug. _

"_Draco this is magnificent. Thank you so much for bringing me here. I love it," she said, smiling broadly at him and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He grabbed hold of her arms before she could pull away from him. _

"_No, _you're_ magnificent and I love _you_."_

_It wasn't the first time he had said those words, but they never failed to cause a flutter of butterflies to erupt in her stomach. Before she had time to reciprocate the sentiment his lips were upon hers in a bruising kiss that was far from chaste. _

_Draco moved his soft lips expertly against her own, at first slow and deliberate, but growing in intensity and need with each passing second. He slid his large calloused hands down the sides of her body, rested them on her narrow hips and pulled her forcibly against his tall, lean form, causing her to gasp in surprise. The moment her lips parted Draco took full advantage, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, seeking to deepen the kiss. Hermione readily complied, entwining her tongue with his and moaning into the warm cavern of his mouth, eliciting a throaty growl from deep within Draco's chest. _

_Draco's kisses nearly always succeeded in bringing Hermione to her knees and this kiss was no exception. Within moments he had quite literally pulled her down so that they were both kneeling atop a thick rug in front of the fireplace. Hermione clung to him with one arm wrapped tightly around his neck while the other hand ran through his fine blonde locks as he lowered her even further onto her back allowing her hair to fan out behind her like a halo. _

"_You're so beautiful Hermione," Draco whispered, briefly breaking the kiss to come up for air. Propping himself up on one side to lay beside her, Draco peppered the shell of her ear with kisses as his free hand continued to stroke the side of her body, just brushing the outside of her breast over her jumper. Hermione craned her neck to one side allowing him greater access as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her long slender neck and over her collar bone, stopping only to suckle her pulse point, causing liquid velvety warmth to pool between her thighs and another moan to escape her lips. _

_Encouraged by her response, Draco slid his hand up under the hem of her jumper and began massaging her naked torso before boldly moving to cup her breasts over her satiny bra and coaxing her pert nipples to attention. Hermione's hips involuntarily bucked as the sensation shot straight down her spine to her thoroughly damp knickers. Draco slid his leg between her thighs and Hermione immediately and unconsciously began to move her hips searching for more friction while Draco continued his ministrations with his fingers and lips. _

_This was about as far as Hermione had ever physically gone with anyone. She was very serious about her position as Head Girl and would never sacrifice her badge by breaking curfew to meet Draco for a late night tryst. Draco on the other hand, was far less concerned about being Head Boy, but he respected Hermione's wishes and gladly took what little he could get in dark corners of The Three Broomsticks or The Hog's Head on Hogsmeade weekends. That's why he was so surprised when Hermione had agreed to come home with him for the Easter break, knowing that his parents would be away on holiday in Greece. Hermione knew that Draco's parents would never approve of their relationship and she couldn't be sure about what would happen after they graduated from Hogwarts in a few months, so she decided to accept Draco's invitation with a plan already formulated that she would to take the opportunity to give her virginity to the only boy she ever loved. _

_Firm in her resolve, Hermione dislodged her hands from Draco's hair and with slow, deliberate movements she began to unbutton his shirt. Draco, who was far too preoccupied with his own exploration of Hermione's delicious curves, didn't notice her busy fingers until she started to slide his shirt from his shoulders. Without a second thought Draco removed the offending article and threw it carelessly to the floor. Seeing him shirtless wasn't exactly a first – they had been swimming in the black lake before and she had been a spectator for many casual 'shirts and skins' Quidditch matches on warm days – but never before had she seen his perfection in such an intimate manner. She ran her hands freely over his pale, lean, but surprisingly strong form. She thought that he could have been carved from marble if he wasn't so warm beneath her fingers. _

_Extricating herself from another one of Draco's soul-searing kisses, Hermione gently pushed him off of her and rolled him onto his back so that she could make her intentions clear. With a determination which Draco found irresistible, Hermione straddled his lap and slowly pulled her jumper over her head. Before Draco could take the time to appreciate how luscious she looked in her pink satin bra, Hermione reached behind her back, unclasped it and dropped it beside her jumper. Draco had never seen her breasts before. They were absolutely perfect – large and round, yet still pert and firm with rosy nipples that were begging to be kissed. _

_With the reflexes and abdominal strength of a Quidditch player, Draco sat up and immediately took one of the rosy peaks into his mouth. He hungrily licked, sucked and nibbled at her flesh until she was panting and gasping for breath, grinding her hips onto his now obvious erection. Her mewling cries of pleasure combined with the proximity of her wet heat to his throbbing member made it difficult for Draco to maintain his well practiced restraint. Wanting to regain some semblance of control, Draco rolled them back onto the carpet, being careful to cushion Hermione's head with his hand on the way down. _

_The moment Draco resumed his position atop her writhing form Hermione dove for his belt and began unfastening his trousers. Though his first instinct was to let her have at it, as he wanted nothing more than to sink his aching cock into wet, willing folds, his accursed morals kicked in at the last moment and he stayed her hand. _

"_I'm not sure that's such a good idea Hermione. If you want me to behave myself at all, then I think it's best if the bottoms stay on," he said firmly, hoping the longing in his voice didn't make him sound too desperate. _

"_Draco I love you and I want this. I'm ready. I want my first time to be with you."_

_Her words effectively floored him as they so often did. For several moments he just looked at her, gazing into the chocolaty depths of her searching eyes and dimly recognized that he was the luckiest wizard in the universe to have been offered such a gift from such an incredible witch. _

"_Are you sure?" he finally asked. "I mean, we don't have to. I hope you don't think that's the reason I invited you here this weekend…"_

"_I know you would never do a thing like that. That's one of the many reasons why I love you and why I'm sure that I want to do this with you."_

_He dove for her lips once more, unable to find adequate words to articulate his feelings. After a few moments of heated snogging, Hermione placed her small hands on his broad shoulders to stop him. _

"_Draco…" she breathed as he moved down to kiss her collar bone once more. "There is one thing I'd like to know before we…" she looked away, cursing herself for voicing the one concern that had been nagging at the back of her mind. _

"_I'll tell you anything you want to know. Ask away," Draco encouraged as he continued to place gentle kisses upon her neck and shoulders. _

"_Well…um…have you ever…" she started awkwardly. "I mean…is this your..."_

"…_first time?" Draco finished for her, lifting his eyes to her face. Hermione nodded mutely in embarrassment. Not that it really mattered. She knew that Draco loved her and that this was right, but she just needed to know. _

"_Yes, of course it is," he continued solemnly. _

"_You mean…you and Pansy never…?" she questioned tentatively. _

"_No! Merlin Hermione, we were only fourteen when we dated, if you can even call it that," he said, half laughing now. _

"_Good," Hermione said, releasing an audible sigh of relief. _

"_Did you seriously think that I had slept with Pansy?" he asked incredulous, his attention diverted. _

"_Well, you know…in the girl's loo…you hear things from time and time and-" _

"_Wait - Pansy said that we'd done it in the loo?" Draco asked, thoroughly confused._

"_No!" Hermione laughed in earnest. "I just heard her talking in there one day. Bragging, more like, about your…erm…for lack of a better word…prowess."_

_Draco laughed in earnest at her pronouncement. _

"_Well I can guarantee that anything she said was absolute bollocks, now can we please stop talking about Pansy so I can go back to ravishing you senseless?"_

_Her answering smile was all the assurance he needed and he lowered his lips to hers once again, more slowly this time, fervently trying to express all he felt for her by pouring all of his love, passion and gratitude into the kiss. Hermione matched him stroke for stroke and he could practically feel her buzzing need through the thin strips of cloth that separated them. He removed a reluctant hand from her breast and began a slow decent to the hem of her simple skirt. Hooking a finger into the elastic waistband, he easily tugged it down so that it bunched around her ankles. Hermione kicked it away as she resumed the task of relieving Draco of his trousers. _

_When they were both finally down to their last remaining barrier, Draco gazed at her intently with a seriousness that plainly implied that this was her last chance to back out. Without a word, Hermione brought her hands down to her hips and began, slowly and purposefully, to slide her pink satin knickers down her thighs. Her eyes were locked on his as she bared herself to him fully for the first time. _

_Draco stared down at her hungrily, taking in every inch of her perfection. He moved a tentative hand down to her hip and laid his hand on top of hers, entwining their fingers. Then he kissed her again, attacking her lips with such force that it stole her breath. At that moment Hermione felt a need unlike anything she had ever experienced settling deep in the pit of her stomach. The feeling was indescribable and yet she could feel it acutely, thrumming throughout her entire body. As Draco continued his assault on her lips Hermione moved their hands, still tightly interlaced, to her dripping core, searching desperately for some kind of release. It took only a moment for Draco to catch the hint and, extracting himself from her now bruised and swollen lips, he freed his hand and began to tenderly caress her most intimate area. _

_With deliberate, unhurried movements Draco slid his long fingers along her wet folds, stopping occasionally to rub gentle circles over her engorged clit. Hermione threw her head back, gasping and moaning with each pass, bucking her hips searching for purchase. After another moment's worth of exquisite torture, Draco inserted a finger into her virginal canal, causing Hermione to hiss in pleasure. She continued to rotate her hips in time with Draco's rhythm as he slid a second finger into her aching core, his thumb still teasing her pearly nub. _

_The combination of sensations was almost too much for Hermione to bear, especially when Draco dipped his head to capture one of her nipples between his teeth. She suddenly felt a coil tighten in her womb and unsure of what she was doing, she ground her hips down onto Draco's hand even harder. The keening and mewling sounds escaping her lips inspired Draco to add a bit more pressure and increase the pace. Within seconds Hermione was groaning as she felt her inner walls clenching around Draco's fingers. She felt as if wave after wave of electrical current was exploding out of her every pore and sweeping through her entire body. _

_Draco watched her face completely transfixed as she rode out the wave of what he assumed was her first-ever orgasm. _

"_You look absolutely gorgeous right now, love. You're glowing."_

_She smiled up at him as she released a shaky breath and tried to calm her shuddering limbs. _

_As she came down off her high, Draco, who was amazed by his own self control up to this point, shucked his pants and positioned his engorged penis against her still pulsating core._

"_Are you ready?" he asked, hardly able to control himself. _

_She merely nodded breathlessly. _

_Slowly, and with the utmost care, Draco pushed himself into her, joining their bodies for the first time. When at last he entered her to the hilt Hermione gasped in surprise at the feeling of fullness and cried out in pain as he broke through her barrier. _

"_I'm so sorry Hermione," Draco rushed apologetically. "I love you so much," he added quickly before covering her face with soft kisses. _

"_It's ok," she panted, willing the pain away. "I love you too." _

_They both lay perfectly still with their foreheads pressed together for several moments, Draco apparently waiting for some unknown cue to continue. At long last Hermione began to move her hips experimentally and discovered to her great relief that the pain was slowly ebbing away. _

_Draco, who had been too terrified of hurting her to move a muscle, took Hermione's movement as a sign that she really was okay and with long slow strokes he began to move in and out of her tight entrance. He knew almost immediately that he wouldn't be able to last very long. _

"_Oh god Hermione…you feel so good," he grunted, thrusting harder and faster now. _

_All feelings of pain long since forgotten, Hermione grunted right along with him, totally overwhelmed by the fullness of Draco's thick cock moving within her. She felt complete and right with Draco's sweaty forehead pressed up against hers, his hot breath mingling with hers while their hips moved together in a frantic rhythm. _

_Once again Hermione began to feel the sensation of a tight coil ready to spring apart deep within her womb. As the spasms overtook her for a second time, Draco shouted that he was going to come. A few moments after her own release Draco came deep inside her, with her name on his lips. _

"_Hermione," he breathed reverently. "I love you. Oh god, Hermione…"_

"Hermione?" Draco asked interrupting her thoughts.

"Hm?" she mumbled, as her attention snapped back to the present.

"I asked if you'd like a glass of wine." Draco repeated.

"Oh yes. I'd love one. Thank you," she fumbled, embarrassed. She was extremely grateful for the firelight at the moment and hoped that it would help to conceal the blush suffusing her cheeks.

He looked at her with concern for a moment before handing her a glass and joining her on the small sofa.

After several awkward moments spent silently sipping their wine and staring into the fire, Hermione spoke.

"You've redecorated in here. The décor is lovely," she added lamely.

"Thank you, though the design is my mother's. She redecorated much of the manor a few summers ago. We actually had a terrible row when it came to this room…"

"Oh?"

"Yes you see, mother wanted to replace everything and start from scratch, but I was quite adamant that the hearth rug remain for…sentimental reasons," he affected an airy nonchalance that did not go unnoticed by Hermione. "I have many fond memories of afternoons spent sitting by the fire…" he continued, his eyes locking onto hers with a searching gaze.

It was almost as though he had performed legilimancy on her, or perhaps she was simply too easy to read, but Hermione could feel another hot flush creeping into her cheeks.

"…one afternoon in particular," he finished, moving closer to her on the couch.

Hermione feared that the wine must have gone to her head because she suddenly felt the flush from her cheeks creeping down her chest; her pulse quickened and her breath caught in her throat.

Draco slowly lifted a hand to her face and caressed her crimson cheek. Hermione's heart fluttered in response to the sudden contact and she reluctantly allowed herself to melt into his touch. His fingers languidly traced a path along the curve of her jaw before gently grasping her chin and drawing her towards him.

As Hermione closed her eyes in anticipation of the kiss, her brain chose that moment to catch up to the butterflies in her stomach. Just before their lips touched for the first time in five long years Hermione stopped herself and turned her face away from him.

"Draco…I…I can't. I'm sorry."

As much as she wanted to give in to the wonderful sensation of his soft lips, she was still too afraid to trust him with her already battered heart.

"Yes you can," he coaxed, moving closer still. "Just let go."

"No. I can't," she repeated more forcefully this time, rising from the sofa and moving to stand by the fire. "I need to know if there is any truth to what they've been writing in _The Daily Prophet_."

She felt as though history was repeating itself. She couldn't believe her own insecurity. Why couldn't she be like a normal witch and simply enjoy the attentions of a handsome wizard for what they were, instead of over-analyzing everything? Of course, she answered herself; Draco wasn't just any old wizard. He was her first and only love and she wasn't about to give herself up to him again knowing that he would likely marry another and leave her broken hearted for a second time.

When he didn't answer right away, her suspicions increased.

"Well? Is there?" she asked desperately.

"Which bit are you referring to?" he countered evasively.

"I'm referring to the part about your pending engagement, you prat!" she fired at him, as unbidden thoughts of Pansy Parkinson drifted into her head.

She was staring daggers at him and when Draco didn't immediately deny the accusation, her ire grew.

"There may be some small amount of truth in that, yes," he conceded at long last.

Hermione turned away from him once more. She couldn't believe that he'd managed to put her in this position again. She stood silently staring into the fire for several long moments debating whether or not she should leave at once or stay just long enough to demand some answers.

Choosing the latter, she quietly asked, "Why?" and hating herself for sounding so thoroughly broken she continued, "How can you possibly be ready to marry again so soon after-"

"Because," he said, interrupting her, "I've already wasted five years of my life and I don't intend to waste another minute."

"Even if it means marrying someone who only loves you for your money?" she asked, unable to suppress the hurt and anger in her voice.

"That…won't be an issue," he said cautiously.

"So you're in love then," she said, defeated.

"Hermione, I…" he started, but quickly changed tack. "Suffice it to say that my fortune won't be an issue because in the event that I should ever remarry I'll lose everything."

"How is that possible?" Hermione blurted out, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"It's quite simple really. My darling late wife added that delightful stipulation to her will shortly after our wedding."

"I see," she said through gritted teeth as the reality of the situation dawned on her. "So I needn't have worried about some vulture trying to use you for your money when it's the other way around!"

Her head was positively spinning. So it wasn't Pansy that was using Draco after all - _he_ was using _her_. Suddenly visions of a smiling Pansy and a smirking Draco peering down out of a wedding photo on the cover of _The_ _Prophet_ began to swim through her head, making her feel ill.

"Hermione…please…that's not…it's not about the-" Draco stammered, quickly getting to his feet.

"You are UNBELIEVABLE!" she shouted over his weak protests. "Though I don't know why I should have expected any better of you," she added mostly to herself as she furiously gripped the right side of her dress in her fist. "And is Pansy aware of that particular stipulation? Of course she isn't," Hermione answered before he could get a word in. "But you can be assured of my secrecy Malfoy, any woman stupid enough to fall for you deserves what she gets."

"Her-"

"Shut it Malfoy," she spat, training her wand on his chest. She was extremely grateful for Madame Alessia's addition of the hidden wand holster to her gown, at least until she saw the stricken look on Malfoy's face.

As they stood staring at each other from opposite sides of the hearth rug Hermione watched as Draco's expression shifted gradually from fear to defeat until finally his eyes took on a sad, hollow look that left her feeling quite unnerved. She slowly lowered her wand and stood frozen on the spot for a fraction of a second waiting, or perhaps hoping that he would say something to stop her from going.

When no other protests were forthcoming Hermione took that as her cue to leave. Turning toward the giant fireplace, she reached for a tiny silver box of floo powder sitting on the mantle and pinched some between her trembling fingers. She tossed the powder into the fire and watched as the flames instantly turned green. She hurriedly stepped into the flickering fire, shouted the address of her flat and felt a familiar spinning sensation before she was whisked away. The last thing she saw of the manor was Draco, staring dejectedly into the dying flames.

**A/N: Sooooo I guess that by projecting the idea that this chapter was going to be difficult to write it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Remind me never to do that again. I hope I made up for the delayed update with the length and lemony flavor of this chapter! I probably should have broken this up into two chapters but I've always had this idea in my head that this story would only have seven chapters. After all, they say seven is the most powerfully magical number right? Anyway, with luck I'll have the final chapter up in a few weeks.**

**What did you think of the sex scene? That was my first time writing anything like that. I wanted to make their first time sort of innocent and fun with just the right amount of awkward. I thought it fitting that my first time writing a sex scene should be their first time experiencing one! Let me know if I hit the mark.**

**A poetic translation of **_**Beau Soir**_** by Claude Debussy, poem by** **Paul Bourget****:**

**When streams turn pink in the setting sun,****  
****And a slight shudder rushes through the wheat fields,****  
****A plea for happiness seems to rise out of all things****  
****And it climbs up towards the troubled heart.****  
****A plea to relish the charm of life****  
****While there is youth and the evening is fair,****  
****For we pass away, as the wave passes:****  
****The wave to the sea, we to the grave.**

**If you want to hear one of my favorite renditions of this song go to:**

**http :/ www . youtube . com / watch ?v = fzNASDPXbMw (just remove all the spaces) I must have listened to this song a hundred times while I wrote this chapter!**

**Please review :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_She was standing alone in a shadowy corner of the Great Hall. The room was filled to bursting with happy, chattering students and their families, but Hermione was sullenly hoping not to be noticed by anyone. She watched as her recently graduated classmates danced and enjoyed the last evening of their school careers, though she had no intention of partaking in the merriment herself. She registered dimly that her now former headmaster was addressing the crowd, but her unfocused mind couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. Whatever it was, the throng of dancing students was moving off the dance floor and looking around expectantly. At first she thought that perhaps the ball was over and she'd be able to slink away unnoticed by anyone until a certain blonde someone sidled up to her and grasped her hand. _

"_Come on Hermione," he spoke softly to her, "they're playing our song."_

"_What? No, get off me," she muttered as she tried to dislodge herself from Draco's grip. _

"_Granger, Dumbledore just announced that we're supposed to lead the next dance, as recognition for our service to the school. Do you mean to say that you're going to neglect your last official duty as Hogwarts Head Girl…?"_

_She swallowed heavily and noticed that everyone in the room was staring at them. _

"_Fine," she muttered through gritted teeth and grudgingly, she allowed Draco to lead her to the center of the dance floor. Only when they began revolving on the spot did she notice that they were, in fact, playing their song. _Beau Soir…_ She usually melted when she heard the familiar tune, but this time her spine went ramrod straight and she locked her arms, keeping them a safe distance apart. _

"_You could at least try to pretend like you're having a good time," Draco said with a frustrated sigh. _

"_Well I'm not, so what good would that do?" she snapped back at him. _

"_Look Hermione, I-"_

"_Don't Draco. I don't want to hear anything you have to say."_

"_Yes, you've made that fact quite clear over the last two months, but this may be my last chance to say this for a while…" he gulped nervously. "I love you Hermione. You're the only one I'll ever love and I'm so sorry."_

"_You're _sorry_?" she spat coldly. "I don't care if you're sorry. In fact, I hope you're sorry for the rest of your miserable life," she whispered vehemently. "Congratulations on your engagement by the way," she sneered._

"_Do you honestly think I'm happy about this? For the hundredth time, there is absolutely nothing I can do about it!" Draco whispered back, his temper rising. _

"_How would you know?" she countered. "You didn't even try!"_

_Before he could respond, before the last quavering notes of the song had even finished resonating through the packed hall, Draco's parents were upon them, ushering him from the room. _

_Hermione was beyond hurt. She was furious. The blood was pumping so loudly in her ears that she barely registered the snide comment Lucius made when he came to collect his son, nor Draco's feeble protests as his mother led him away in her vice-like grip. _

_Uncaring about the hundreds of bewildered onlookers, Hermione stood frozen to the spot, silent tears coursing down her flushed cheeks. She felt a hand on her shoulder and vaguely recognized Ginny's voice seeping in through the haze, but Hermione shook her off and she began to run. She ran faster and harder than she ever had before. Tears clouding her vision, she ran without a destination in mind. Kicking off her shoes, she pumped her legs as fast as they could carry her as she sprinted from one corridor to the next until she reached the castle grounds. She stopped suddenly, panting heavily, searching in all directions for any sign of white blonde hair, but he was already gone… _

Hermione woke with a start, gasping for breath as though she really had just run the length of the Hogwarts grounds. Groaning, she rolled over in bed to retrieve her watch from the bedside table. She gazed blearily at the little gold hands as they ticked their way toward half noon. With another start, she bolted from the bed and began frantically gathering her clothing and bespelling her face and hair since she was already more than three hours late for work and would definitely not have time for a shower. She was halfway down the stairs, hopping on one foot as she struggled to put on her remaining shoe, before she remembered that though it was Friday, she had taken the day off. She collapsed in a heap on the stairs, cradling her face in her hands, feeling foolish.

It was the first time in living memory that Hermione had called in sick. She had flooed Amos on Thursday morning after a fitful night's sleep spent reliving her horrible encounter with Malfoy the previous evening and concocted a feeble story about a stomach virus. Of course she wasn't really sick; the truth of the matter was that she dreaded being fired. She assumed that her little auction stunt would make the _Prophet _and she just couldn't bear to face an irate Diggory on top of everything else. The arrival of the post owl on Thursday morning confirmed her suspicions and she'd had to gather up all of her Gryffindor courage before placing the floo call.

She had been shocked to discover that not only had Diggory been quick to excuse her, but he'd insisted that she take Friday off as well, offering to send over his personal healer to make sure she was well enough to attend the masquerade ball on Friday evening – 'An event not to be missed,' he'd insisted despite her protests. He even went so far as to congratulate her on her ingenuity in getting Malfoy to donate an extra ten thousand galleons via her impromptu auction and began throwing around words like, 'promotion,' 'bonus' and 'single-handedly balanced the department's operating budget for the next three years!'

None of the praise even registered with Hermione. Hearing Malfoy's name had sent her mood spiraling and after thanking Amos for his understanding, she made it clear to him in no uncertain terms that Friday evening's ball would be the absolute last time she would set foot inside Malfoy Manor. She even went so far as to threaten to quit her job if Amos tried to strong arm her into any more 'fundraising events.' Then, after sealing her floo and warding her flat from unwanted visitors, she had spent the remainder of the day in bed until sleep had finally taken her late Thursday night.

After a few minutes of wallowing in self-pity, Hermione rose from the staircase, righted her mismatched robes and kicked off her shoes. She schlepped down to the kitchen and began making tea when she heard the distinct sounds of a beak tapping on her window. She had forgotten to ward her flat against owl intruders.

Against her better judgment Hermione lifted the latch of the kitchen window and threw it open, allowing the bird to perch on the sill. She recognized the eagle owl instantly, though she had never seen it looking quite so haggard. He looked as if he'd been flying all night and could barely keep his round yellow eyes open. The bird hooted feebly as it dropped the parchment that had been clamped in its beak onto the counter. Hermione hurriedly fetched a dish of water and a handful of treats for the poor, exhausted owl and set them on the sill.

Indulging in the brief respite, the owl drank two full dishes of water and consumed all of the treats before giving Hermione a grateful hoot and disappearing out of the still open window. Hermione watched it go for several long moments before finally turning her attention to the thick parchment on the kitchen counter. There could be no question as to who had sent the letter; though she wasn't sure she wanted to know what he had to say.

Suddenly, memories of her last visit to Malfoy Manor flooded her mind as she sank down into a kitchen chair and allowed a few stray tears to slide down her cheeks into her cooling tea. He loved her. Draco Malfoy loved her – there could be no other explanation for his actions and behaviors toward her over the past week. She should be deliriously happy right now. He should be there sitting across from her at the table, reading the morning paper, but that would never happen. That was the most heartbreaking part about it – he loved her - he just didn't love her enough, not enough to give up his precious money and the life of luxury to which he'd been born.

Drying her face with her sleeve, she reached for the parchment with trembling fingers and broke the red wax seal on the envelope. Inside there was a brief note in an all too familiar hand…

_Hermione,_

_I know you haven't read any of my other letters. I hope you open this one. There is so much that still needs to be said. Please come to the manor this evening. I need to see you - please. _

_Yours Always,_

_DM_

Hermione was at a loss. What 'other letters' was he talking about? Had he been trying to reach her for the past two days? No wonder his owl seemed so exhausted. She didn't know what to think or how to feel, but there was one thing that she felt certain about - it was time to call Ginny. She hadn't spoken to anyone except Amos Diggory since Wednesday night and she was sure that her friends would be worried about her.

Moving to the fireplace, Hermione knelt down on the hearth rug, performed a quick spell to unseal her floo and placed the call.

"Hermione! Oh, thank Merlin!" Ginny gasped when Hermione's face appeared in the fire. Ginny threw her arms around Hermione's hovering head and asked, "What's happened to you? We tried calling and we must've sent you at least a dozen owls. Where have you been?"

"I've been at home Ginny and I'm alright. Nothing's happened."

"But Harry said that he went to see you in your office yesterday and you weren't there. Diggory said that you hadn't come in to work, that you were ill…"

"I'm not ill. I just told Diggory that I was unwell to avoid going in to work and to try to get out of Malfoy's party tonight. No such luck on the last bit I'm afraid."

"Well I'm glad to hear you're alright, but why on earth wouldn't you want to go to the party? _The Daily Prophet_ has already dubbed Malfoy's Masquerade Ball 'the event of the year!'" Ginny exclaimed excitedly.

"Yes, well perhaps for Pansy Parkinson it will be…" Hermione muttered darkly.

"What are you talking about? Why would Malfoy want anything to do with Pansy sodding Parkinson? He was already married to one horrible cow of a woman. I can't imagine he'd be after another anytime soon."

"Well I know he plans to get remarried right away - he told me as much the other night after dinner – and when he does he'll lose his entire fortune, so I imagine it'll be his Gringotts account that's most interested in Pansy. After all, she is from one of the wealthiest pureblood families in the country…"

"Wait. He loses his fortune if he gets remarried?"

"That's what he said," Hermione confirmed.

"Explain to me why the world's wealthiest bachelor would risk losing his fortune only so he could marry someone like Pansy Parkinson to get it all back. That doesn't make any sense," Ginny persisted.

"I don't know! He said that he 'didn't want to waste another minute,'" Hermione echoed his words glumly. "Perhaps he and Pansy have been secretly dating for the past five years. I'm sure she would have no scruples about trying to steal someone else's husband. Merlin, maybe Pansy is the one behind Malfoy's wife's mysterious 'accident…'

"Hermione! Stop that right now. You're being ridiculous," Ginny remonstrated. "If he really is interested in Pansy, for whatever reason, then why would he try so hard to spend so much time with you? Do you really believe that Malfoy would go this far out of his way just to hurt you?"

"He's just being his usual selfish-"

"You don't really believe that! I know how devastated you were when he was _forced_ to marry someone else-"

"I wasn't-"

"Don't bother denying it Hermione, you weren't fooling anyone then and you're certainly not fooling me now. He loves you Hermione and you may not be able to admit it yet, but I know that you still love him too."

"I don't-"

"Hermione Jean Granger," Ginny said, adopting a perfect imitation of her mother's voice, "will you stop being so bloody stubborn for once? Come with us to the party. Hear him out. If Malfoy turns out to be as horrible as you say he is then I've got a bat-bogey hex with his name on it, okay?"

"Okay," Hermione agreed grudgingly, quelled by Ginny's fierce gaze. "I'll meet you there at eight."

"Why don't you come over here and spend the afternoon getting ready with Luna and me?" Ginny offered.

"No thanks Ginny, if I'm going to be attending a masquerade ball this evening I had better go out and buy myself a costume. I'll see you all later," she said, sounding thoroughly depressed as she ended the call.

A few hours later, after a long hot shower and several procrastinatory cups of tea (during which time she read and reread Malfoy's brief missive so many times the parchment had become damp from the steam,) Hermione found herself standing outside a familiar little shop bearing the sign: _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. Resigning herself to an evening full of heartbreak, hurt and humiliation, Hermione sighed and entered the shop.

"Good afternoon Ms. Granger," a smiling Madame Malkin greeted Hermione. "What can I help you with today?"

"I was hoping you could help me find some last minute dress robes for Malfoy's masquerade ball this evening," Hermione replied without enthusiasm.

"My, you are cutting it rather close," Madam Malkin said, glancing at the clock on the wall, "and I was planning to close up shop a bit early this evening as I've still got several alterations to finish before the delivery elves make their final rounds," she said, gesturing to the large pile of robes in front of her that she was feverishly bespelling with any number of unknown charms while she spoke, "but I suppose I can spare a few minutes for you, Ms. Granger," she smiled as she disentangled herself from her work. Perking up a bit, she walked around the counter, grasped Hermione's hand and added, "I'm sure we'll be able to find you something lovely for the ball."

Hermione was far less optimistic, but thanked Madame Malkin profusely all the same as she allowed the older woman to lead her around the small shop.

Rack after rack of robes in every possible style and color was magicked onto Hermione's person over the next half hour, but all seemed to be lacking in one way or another. It wasn't that she was being overly picky, at least not on purpose (though if she was honest with herself, there was a small part of her that wanted to look spectacular if for no other reason than to give Draco one last look at what he'll be missing if really intended to marry someone like Pansy Parkinson). It's just that every dress she tried was either the wrong cut or the wrong color; the styles were all inappropriate in the extreme – the most ostentatious of which was covered head to toe in genuine peacock feathers – while the more conservative styles made Hermione look as though she'd be attending a funeral rather than a masked ball. The strangest part was that not one of the gowns, no matter how hideous, was the correct size. Madam Malkin insisted that though she would love to be able to help Hermione, she simply didn't have the time to finish any additional alterations before the ball which was now only a few hours away.

Nodding in understanding and cursing herself for her own stupidity, Hermione made to leave the shop. She had no idea where to go from here. Most of the shops in Diagon Ally would already be closed for the evening since a majority of their patrons and even a few members of their staff would be readying themselves for the evening's festivities at Malfoy Manor. She supposed that she could try a muggle shop, but remembered that she wasn't carrying any muggle money with her and Gringotts closed early on Fridays.

Feeling as though her spirits couldn't possibly sink any lower, Hermione slowly ambled across the cobblestone street when she heard Madam Malkin shout, "Wait!" over her shoulder, effectively stopping her in her tracks. When she turned to look at the shopkeeper she noticed that although Madam Malkin had drawn the curtains and placed the 'closed' sign in the window, she was frantically waving Hermione back into the shop and her face had split into a wide grin. Hermione tentatively walked back across the street.

"I just remembered that I recently received a sample gown from a largely unknown American designer looking to develop a new line of formal dress robes here in Europe," she explained as she ushered Hermione inside. "I've been so busy that I haven't even had time to open the box, but I'll bet galleons to gargoyles that you'll fit into a sample size!" She was practically singing in sudden delight as she bounded into the back room to retrieve the gown.

Hermione hardly dared to breathe while she waited for Madam Malkin to return. She was too afraid to hope that something might actually go right for her today. She didn't know what she would do it this dress didn't fit. The one thing she did know was that if she never had to bother with ridiculous dress robes again after tonight, she would die a happy witch.

She impatiently drummed her fingers on the counter while she waited. There was a lot of muttering and several crashes coming from the back room and she craned her neck over the counter to try to see what Madam Malkin could possibly be doing. At long last, with a large box in her arms and a triumphant smile on her face, Madam Malkin returned.

"Here it is," she trilled happily as she set the box on the counter and carefully lifted the lid.

Hermione had to stifle a gasp when she first glimpsed the glittering gown before her. It was ivory-colored, but had a thin layer of gauzy, silvery material over the top that was covered with lace accents and intricate beading that caused the dress to sparkle when it caught the light. Hermione felt that it wasn't right to refer to such a beautiful garment as merely a dress; this was an off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved, floor length, empire waist, Renaissance-style work of art.

With a wave of her wand, Madam Malkin levitated the dress out of its box and with another flick, lowered in onto Hermione's body. The effect was stunning. This gown seemed to have been made for her. The fit was absolutely perfect - it looked as though Hermione had been poured into the dress - and it was exactly her taste. She couldn't have asked for a more beautiful gown if she'd designed it herself.

Hermione felt a little bit like Cinderella, the heroine of one her favorite muggle children's stories, as Madam Malkin flitted around the room like her very own fairy godmother, fussing over a perfect pair of silver heels and supplying her with an ornate matching silver mask. The final touch, which Hermione thought was a stroke of pure genius on Madam Malkin's part, was a pair of opalescent fairy wings which she'd transfigured from an extra piece of fabric lying around the shop.

"Madam Malkin, you're amazing!" Hermione exclaimed in delight as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. "How can I ever thank you?"

"Don't thank me, my dear," Madam Malkin said kindly, "just get to that ball and leave me to finish my work before my other customers start sending me howlers."

Hermione looked rather sheepish as Madam Malkin whipped the dress off of her just as quickly as she'd gotten it on, levitated it, along with the shoes and mask, back into the box and handed the huge parcel to Hermione.

"What do I owe you for all of this?" Hermione asked, cringing at the thought.

"Nothing, my dear," the shop keeper said with a mischievous smile, "everything has already been paid for."

"But, who…? How…?" Hermione spluttered incoherently, but Madam Malkin didn't answer. She simply smiled and silently bowed her from the shop.

**A/N: Clearly this isn't the end of the story and it will not be completed in seven chapters as I had originally hoped. I've added so many details to what was supposed to be a really simple plot line that it was impossible to cram everything into one final chapter. I just can't seem to stop writing this story! **

**Please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors – this was completely un beta-ed and it is now almost three o'clock in the morning where I am so there's a good chance I missed some stuff. **

**This is what I pictured for Hermione's final ball gown - http: / data. whicdn. com/ images/6841159 / 5412950491_85bdd67160_z_thumb. jpg? 1296747497 (remove the spaces). It's the dress Drew Barrymore wore in the ball scene in the film 'Ever After.'**

**I'll make no promises for when the next (and definitely last!) chapter will be posted because by now we all know that I'd be lying anyway. **

**Please, please, please review. It really does make me write faster, I swear!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

At half past six Hermione was back at her flat staring at the tea kettle and impatiently waiting for the water to boil when she gave it up as a bad job and, opting for something stronger, hastily poured herself a glass of wine. After downing her first glass nearly in one, she poured herself another and plunked down onto the sitting room sofa where she stared at the dress box lying innocently on the table and puzzled over the mystery of its origins.

Initially, she thought that perhaps Madam Malkin had taken pity on her after all the terrible things that had been printed about her in _The Prophet_ recently and had simply given her the dress since the sample pieces were rarely sold in the shop but, she reasoned, the odds of that gown actually being a sample design were rather slim. Next she allowed herself to ponder whether or not Malfoy might be behind it all. He could certainly afford something so extravagant, but then she thought better of it, thinking that the Malfoy she knew would have sent a note with it or presented it in some grandiose manner, wanting to make a big show of bestowing such a lavish gift. Then her thoughts flew to Ginny or Luna, but she didn't think that either of her dearest friends could afford a gown like that, never mind the effort it would have taken to get Madam Malkin to make sure that she chose that particular dress, especially since up until a few hours ago, her friends didn't even know if she'd be attending the ball at all.

Deciding that in the long run it didn't really matter who had arranged for the dress because it was probably the most beautiful thing she'd ever be lucky enough to have on her body, so she would simply wear it and revel in her good luck. It's not as if she had anything else to wear in any case. She had no choice in the matter so she resolved not to over-analyze everything for once. Perhaps it was the effect of the wine, but Hermione actually giggled to herself in excitement as she scooped up the garment box and staggered tipsily up the stairs to get ready for the ball.

Over an hour later Hermione was dressed and ready to go. Without Ginny there to help her, she had forgone any fancy up-dos and left her hair down except for a few tendrils in the front which she'd pinned back to keep them off her face. She hadn't done much in the way of make-up either since she'd be wearing a mask for much of the evening. She did apply some light shadow and mascara to her eyes and some sheer gloss to her lips, but she didn't need any blush as her cheeks were quite rosy from all the wine she'd consumed. She was currently on her third glass as she sat at the kitchen table staring at the clock on the wall. She was already fifteen minutes late, but she made no attempt to hasten her departure. She simply sat there, waiting for her liquid courage to kick in and settle her frazzled nerves. That and she wanted to make absolutely certain that her friends would arrive before she did. She didn't think that she could face Malfoy Manor or its owner, alone.

At eight-thirty, having downed the last of the bottle of wine, Hermione hoisted herself out of her kitchen chair and made her way to the apparition point in the back garden. She tripped on one of the large paving stones on the garden path and nearly went flying, but luckily she righted herself at the last moment.

"I'll be lucky not to splinch myself," Hermione said aloud as she stood on the apparition point, using a nearby tree for balance. "Then I'd be a sight!" she laughed drunkenly. Swaying slightly, she spoke the name of her destination loudly and clearly, forgetting that you didn't need to do that with apparition, waved her wand and disappeared with a pop.

Much to her surprise and delight, she arrived in one piece in front of the large manor house gate and had even managed to stay upright on the landing – heels and all! These shoes were not charmed to feel like trainers and once inside the gate (which seemed to swing open all of its own accord) Hermione had quickly forgotten about her euphoria over a perfect landing and grumbled to herself about ludicrous, uncomfortable footwear all the way up the long gravel drive.

What seemed like an eternity later, Hermione finally reached the house and climbed the staircase that lead to the front doors. As soon as her foot touched the top step, the doors magically swung open to admit her into the lavishly decorated foyer. She stepped inside and stood slack-jawed for a moment, taking in the magnificent décor. Hermione was forcibly reminded of the Great Hall at Hogwarts during the Yule Ball in her fourth year. Everything as far as the eye could see was charmed to look like it had been encased in a thin layer of ice. Mercifully, it wasn't cold or slippery to the touch, but the sight made her shiver just the same.

Hermione made the now familiar trek up to the ballroom and was taken aback when several of the portraits nodded to her from their icy frames. On every other occasion that she had walked the manor's halls, the portraits had glared at her in disdain or whispered rude things about her parentage behind her back. She feared that the wine must really be going to her head because she could've sworn that a portrait of a corpulent red-nosed wizard had actually winked at her as she passed. Even the portraits whose occupants merely peered down at her in feigned indifference looked slightly less intimidating with frost dotting their eyebrows and icicles hanging from their noses.

Turning her attention away from the portraits, Hermione approached the entrance to the ballroom. Slowly and carefully she peeked around the door frame and scanned the crowd in search of a friendly face. This room too, was adorned in icy elegance. The only visible lighting was provided by hundreds of live fairies flitting about the ceiling causing everything below to sparkle like diamonds. The set up was very much like it had been the previous evenings, but with the addition of several full service bars that looked like they had been carved from actual ice that were scattered about the room. The place was positively packed with witches and wizards, all of whom were masked, which made the task of locating her friends considerably more difficult. Remembering suddenly that she too was wearing a mask, Hermione sidled into the room and began making a circuit around the edges of the crowd.

After completing a lap around the perimeter of the room, Hermione decided to use her anonymity to her advantage and boldly strode through the center of the dance floor, pausing only to listen to various snatches of conversation in the hopes that she might recognize a familiar voice. Unfortunately the din of the crowd combined with the roar of the orchestra made it almost impossible for her to hear anything. She was beginning to fear that her friends hadn't arrived yet or worse, that they had changed their plans and wouldn't be arriving at all.

Hermione was having trouble focusing and she was unsure about what to do next. For lack of a better plan, she simply stood there in the center of the dance floor hoping that one of her friends might spot her and come to her rescue. When no one was forthcoming, she began to feel exceedingly stupid. People were actually starting to stare. The irrational and drunken part of her brain wondered if this whole evening wasn't some sort of elaborate practical joke. The cogent part of her realized that if she stayed out on the dance floor any longer, someone was bound to come up and ask her to dance and that was the absolute last thing she wanted to do in her current state. Thankfully her desire to avoid potential embarrassment overrode her need to get to the bottom of what was turning out be to an extremely bizarre evening and she quickly made a beeline for the nearest bar.

"I'd like a drink, please," Hermione informed the tiny house elf 'manning' the bar.

"Yes, miss. Anything in particular?" the elf queried in a squeaky little voice.

"No, any adult beverage will do, thank you."

In a flash, the elf produced a frothy, fruit-flavored, pink concoction that tasted delightful. Hermione sipped at the drink inattentively as she continued to scan the crowd. Her friends weren't the only the ones who were conspicuous in their absence. She had yet to lay eyes on their famous host, though she was quite relived that her inevitable meeting with Draco had at least been postponed for the time being.

Noticing that her glass was empty, Hermione ordered another round from the bartending house elf. The sweet pink mixture didn't taste as though it had any alcohol in it at all and Hermione wondered if perhaps this house elf didn't know what she had meant by 'adult beverage.' She drank it down happily in any case and continued staring about the room.

By the time she'd finished her third drink (which was consumed in rapid succession after the first two,) Hermione was definitely beginning to feel more than a bit woozy. She rested her head in her hand, leaning heavily on the bar, only to discover that it was in fact made of real ice when her elbow slid out from underneath her and her face smacked onto its slippery surface. If she hadn't been wearing a mask she might have chipped a tooth, but thankfully the mask seemed to cushion the impact somewhat. She felt around her face and inside her mouth and, finding all of her teeth in their proper place, she immediately popped back up, her face flushing red as she peered around to see if anyone had noticed.

At that precise moment, Pansy Parkinson sauntered up to the bar in a tight, devil-red, sequined gown with a feathered mask perched upon her pug nose that fanned out like flames around her eyes, looking for all the world as though Christmas had just come early.

"My, my, my Granger, you certainly do pull out all the stops when it comes to embarrassing yourself in public, don't you?" Pansy simpered.

"Can't you go bother someone else? You're killing my buzz," Hermione replied coolly, trying to sound as though she hadn't just face-planted onto the bar.

"Oh, but it's been ages since our last little chat in Twilfit & Tattings. Besides, I wanted to get a closer look at those robes of yours. A bit presumptuous isn't it, wearing white? Hoping Draco will take a hint?" Pansy asked. "Though I suppose subtlety never was your strong suit…" she added with a false laugh as she fingered one of Hermione's lace cuffs.

What with the hectic nature of her afternoon and the fact that she had acquired her robes in such a hurry, not to mention the copious amounts alcohol she'd consumed, Hermione hadn't had the time to feel self conscious about the color of her gown. Though now she thought about it, she probably should be. If the rumors in _The Daily Prophet_ were true, then Draco would be officially announcing his engagement this evening. Lose the mask and the wings and she'd be wearing a full on wedding gown. She groaned to herself at the thought and wished she had another one of those pink drinks in her hand.

While these thoughts whirred through Hermione's foggy brain she stood stock still at the bar, her unfocused gaze settling on whatever was immediately before her. Unfortunately, to the casual observer it would have appeared as though Hermione was staring directly at Pansy's cleavage. After a long moment of silence Pansy snapped her fingers in Hermione's face to refocus her attention.

"Wow Granger, you really are a mess. I can't wait for the _Prophet_ to hear about this…" she said gleefully, as she retrieved a glass of champagne off the bar and turned to walk away.

"I may be a mess, Parkinson," Hermione conceded much more loudly than was necessary, "but I know something you don't know…" she taunted in a horrible sing-song tone.

Pansy slowly turned on the spot.

"I can't imagine that _you_ of all people could have any information that would be of interest to me," Pansy said in an insufferably haughty tone.

"I happen to have information that would be of interest to anyone aspiring to be the next Lady Malfoy…." Hermione said, adopting what she hoped was a similarly haughty tone, but actually sounded more like a caricature of an elderly dowager… or at least one who was extremely drunk. Stretching to her full height of five feet two inches, Hermione craned her neck slightly to look Pansy directly in the eye, though the effect was somewhat diminished because she rather unsteady on her feet.

"Well, what is it then?" Pansy demanded, her patience wearing thin.

"Let me ask you something, Pans," Hermione said, flinging her arm around the taller witch's neck. "Are your Gringotts vaults in good order? Because they'd have to be if you want to marry Draco and continue to wear such expensive dress robes and shoes…"

"What are you on about?" Pansy asked, clearly annoyed now. "Of course Draco is going to marry someone from money, but it's not as if he needs the extra gold. He's the wealthiest man in Europe, or hadn't you heard?" she said smugly, trying to dislodge herself from Hermione's grip.

"Not for long he's not," Hermione whispered conspiratorially. Pansy stilled to listen and Hermione continued. "According to the late Lady Malfoy's will, if Draco decides to remarry…" she said, pausing for effect and noting that Pansy was now hanging on her every word, "…he'll lose. His. Entire. Fortune," she said cheerfully, punctuating each of the last words by tapping Pansy lightly on her pug nose.

Though Hermione had removed her arm from around Pansy's neck, Pansy stayed rooted to the spot for a long moment, looking stricken.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. Why, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Pansy said airily, trying to recover from the momentary shock, "…errant nonsense."

Hermione merely smirked at her. Without another word, Pansy turned and stormed through the crowd presumably to find Draco, while Hermione laughed to herself and ordered another drink to celebrate the fact that she had finally gotten one over on the former Queen of Slytherin. Her happiness was short-lived however, because just then Ginny Weasley appeared at her side dressed in a shimmering aqua colored gown that made her look like a mermaid and snatched the drink from her hand.

"I'll take that," Ginny said. "It looks like you've had more than enough for one night."

"Hey!" Hermione cried indignantly, reaching for the glass even as Ginny tipped its contents down her own throat.

"So here's where you've been hiding," she continued, replacing the empty glass on the bar. "I was beginning to think that you stayed home. I've been searching for you everywhere for the last hour."

"Well you've found me," Hermione said, sulking at having lost her drink.

"And it's a good thing I found you when I did. One more of those pink concoctions and you'd be on your arse in no time," Ginny said teasingly. "When did you get here?"

"I don't know – _hic_ -" Hermione hiccoughed, "…just after eight-thirty, I – _hic_ - think…"

"How did you get in?" Ginny asked, puzzled. "Malfoy warded the doors at five minutes after eight in order to keep out the press," Ginny informed her.

"That's – _hic_ - odd," Hermione said, wracking her brain and trying to focus, "I didn't have any – _hic_ - trouble getting past the – _hic_ - wards. I apparated right in front of the – _hic_ - gate and it just – _hic_ - opened. Same with the – _hic_ - front doors…" Hermione was very unsteady on her feet and she tried to grab onto the bar in an attempt to regain her balance, but slipped.

"Whoa. I've got you," Ginny said, catching her before she took another embarrassing fall. "I guess that particular mystery will have to wait for the time being. I think the first thing that we need to do is find a potion to sober you up my friend," Ginny added in motherly tone.

Hermione merely nodded as Ginny turned to the bartending elf to request a sobering draught. She registered vaguely that Ginny and the elf were discussing the proper dosage for a witch of Hermione's size, but Hermione wasn't really listening to the particulars of their conversation. Her attention was suddenly drawn by a large mob gathering on the far side of the ballroom. As per usual, Hermione's natural curiosity got the better of her and while Ginny's back was still turned, Hermione snuck away and melted into the multitude of masked guests.

As she drew nearer, Hermione could hear two distinct voices at the center of the commotion, but couldn't quite make out what they were saying. All around her she heard whispering as rumors were swapped back and forth making their way through the crowd.

…_loses his whole fortune if he remarries…_

…_not just his wife's estate, but the Malfoy's money as well…_

…_Draco Malfoy killed his wife?_

…_is Malfoy really dying? …well that's what I heard…_

Even in her drunken state Hermione could spot a ridiculous rumor when she heard one. Unwilling to believe anything that didn't come directly from the horse's mouth, she inched ever closer to the center of the fray - still staying well out of sight - until she was able to distinguish what the two speakers were saying.

"Well I think I have a right to know-" Pansy started, but Draco spoke right over her.

"…even if it was any of your business, now is neither the time nor the place Pansy," Draco whispered vehemently, just loud enough for Hermione and everyone else in the immediate vicinity to hear. "So sorry about that ladies and gentlemen," he added, addressing the assembly at large, "…just a little misunderstanding between friends…please everyone, return to your dancing." He gestured for the orchestra to resume playing, but Pansy would not be deterred.

"I demand to know once and for all if there is any truth to what that mudblood bitch was saying, Draco!" Pansy practically shrieked.

Apart from a few stunned gasps, silence engulfed the room. No one, not even the staunchest blood purist would dare to use such a word in polite company, especially when addressing their host. Draco was visibly seething and the crowd waited with bated breath for his response. Part of Hermione wanted to sink into the floor while another part desperately wanted to know what Draco was going to say. He didn't keep them waiting long.

"If I ever hear you utter that foul word in my presence again I won't be held responsible for my actions. Have I made myself clear, Ms. Parkinson?" Draco spoke slowly in a voice that was deadly calm.

"But, Draco," she began to whine and he cut her off once more.

"As for the other matter, I have no wish to deny that the terms of my late wife's will are extremely peculiar. It's true that if I marry again I will have to forfeit the entirety of my estate."

Fierce muttering erupted at his proclamation.

"Oh Draco, darling, don't worry. We wouldn't have to officially marry…I'm sure we could come to some other arrangement…" Pansy said as she stroked his face with her hand in an attempt to soothe the now obviously discomfited Draco. The hopeful look that graced Pansy's face was enough to make Hermione want to throw up on the spot.

"You know what, Pansy?" he asked as he forcefully brushed her hand away from his face, "I don't give a shite about the money. I never have…" he said, distractedly running a hand through his hair.

"The things I really care about…no, the person I really care about is gone, all because of that stupid money…" Draco continued without looking at her. He was pacing back and forth, speaking more to himself than any one of the hundreds of spellbound witches and wizards hanging on his every word.

"I wasted five years of my life because of that money. Five years! I sacrificed everything that was most important to me and for what?" he asked to no one in particular, becoming more and more agitated as he spoke. His carefully crafted mask of controlled indifference was beginning to slip. Pansy, looking rather frightened, slowly backed away from Draco as he continued his rant.

"I don't know if any of you know this," he said, sounding bitter, "but I had real love once, a long time ago, and I lost it. I lost it because I was too cowardly to fight for it, too wrapped up in a world of money and prejudice and status – things that don't even matter," he added in a defeated tone that was dripping with self disgust.

"That is the single greatest regret of my life. If I had a time-turner and could go back and change one thing, I would return to the moment when I had true love in my grasp and I would hold on with both hands and never let go, no matter the consequences…"

Unbeknownst to Hermione, tears began to slide down the front of her sparkling, silver mask. At the same moment, Draco ripped his mask from his face.

"…and if I could have one thing now, one wish, it would be forgiveness and the chance to start over again…"

One by one, as if a spotlight had suddenly illuminated her presence, heads slowly began to turn in Hermione's direction. Her feet began to move of their own accord, carrying her forward like a moth to a flame. The crowd parted as she made her way to the front of the throng to stand before Draco.

"What do you say, Hermione?" Draco asked with quiet hopefulness.

For once in her life Hermione didn't think. She didn't reason, she didn't weigh the odds, nor did she try to deduce a hidden meaning behind Draco's words. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but the moment she spoke, she knew in her heart that it was true.

"I love you so much," she confessed at long last.

His body visibly relaxed at her pronouncement and a brilliant smile lit up his face.

"That's all I needed to hear," he said, closing the distance between them and taking her in his arms. "I have never stopped loving you. Not for a single second of a single day," he continued as he stroked her hair, slowly untied the ribbon of her silver mask and gently wiped a tear from her face.

Unable to wait any longer and uncaring about the hundreds of prying eyes surrounding them, Hermione took Draco's face in her hands and kissed him soundly on the mouth, pouring out every last ounce of passion and fire that had been building up inside of her for the past five years. Draco was so surprised by this action that he actually gasped, allowing Hermione to deepen the kiss almost instantly. A cheer went up from the crowd, effectively breaking the tension in the room. Hermione had almost forgotten they were there.

After what could have been a long moment, an hour or two or several blissful days, she broke the kiss and immediately felt bereft of his warm lips upon her own, but pulled away all the same and looked him full in the face.

"If you were still in love with me all this time, why didn't you just say so and save us both a lot of time and trouble?" she asked, her inquisitive nature getting the better of her.

"There's the girl with the unquenchable thirst for knowledge that I fell in love with all those years ago. I was beginning to wonder what happened to her," he teased.

"Very funny, but you didn't answer my question," she persisted.

Draco sighed, his expression full of sadness and regret, but he didn't look away.

"I was cursed," he said simply with only the tiniest hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

"Cursed? What do you mean cursed?" Hermione asked, full of concern.

"It's alright love. It's all over now," he said as he placed a soft kiss on her lips to allay her fears. "Let me explain." Though he was speaking only to her, the rest of the room went completely still once more as all of the guests listened intently.

"I had made it quite clear to my late wife from the beginning that our marriage was nothing more than a business arrangement. I followed through with my part of the deal, but made no secret of the fact that I was in love with someone else and that no contract was ever going to change that," he said looking meaningfully at Hermione and squeezing her hand. "I think she was skeptical at first, but after a few years of trying to force me to love her unsuccessfully, I think she finally gave up and decided to curse me instead out of spite."

"That's horrible!" Hermione exclaimed, unable to contain her indignation. She was after all, still pretty drunk.

"It was actually rather ingenious, to give credit where credit is due," Draco said with a humorless laugh. "She worked the curse in as another delightful part of her will. You see, she arranged things so that in the highly likely scenario that my wife predeceased me, the curse would be placed on the standard papers I would have to sign in order to take possession of her estate. Unbeknownst to me, the curse took effect the moment my quill touched the parchment."

"What did the curse do? And how did you find out about it?" Hermione questioned anxiously.

"Her solicitor informed me of the nature of the curse as soon as I'd finished signing all of the documents and he had received payment for his services, the git," he added with a grimace. "The curse was designed to prevent me from professing my love for another woman unless she said it first."

"Well, that doesn't sound so bad, as curses go…" Hermione said, but Draco wasn't finished.

"I know it sounds simple, but there's a catch. This person had to be able to prove that they loved me for more than my fortune. That's where the odd business with the will comes in. She was convinced that by removing the money from the equation I would never be able to find someone who would willingly love me for me."

"But that's preposterous…"

"Says you, but to her it made perfect sense. She was a horrible woman who truly believed that love, happiness, that anything could be bought. She measured her worth in galleons and assumed, falsely, that everyone else did too. She underestimated you, my love."

"What do you mean?"

"For the brightest witch of the age you're being rather thick. Don't you see? By finally admitting that you still love me you broke the curse."

"I still don't understand why you couldn't have said something or at least given me a hint so that I might have sped things along…"

"That was the worst part about it, I was forbidden to speak of it to anyone. I couldn't for example, write it down or have some use legilimancy on me or tell a third party that I loved you and asked them to speak on my behalf. She thought of everything and closed any potential loopholes. My dear old wife went to her grave firm in her belief that I would end up dying alone, I have no doubt."

"Maybe…" Hermione said thoughtfully, "…or perhaps she was simply trying to protect you from falling into the trap of another loveless marriage with a witch who only wanted you for your gold," she said, thinking of Pansy.

"Only you could think so well of her, Hermione. That's one of the many reasons I love you. I'm so sorry for all I've put you through. Can you ever forgive me for being such a coward?" he asked desperately.

"If you'll forgive me for being such a stubborn fool," she countered with a smile.

"Alright," he said in a faux business-like manner, "I'll forgive you on one condition…"

"And what condition is that?"

"Marry me."

Hermione suddenly felt as though all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She was stunned speechless. For the first time in her life everything she had ever wanted was right there in front of her, she needed only the courage to reach out and take it. Gazing into the warmest silver eyes she had ever seen, she swallowed her fear, placed her hand in his and took a leap.

"Okay."

"You'll really marry me?" Draco asked, hardly daring to believe his ears.

"Of course I'll marry you," she said, beaming at him with a radiant smile.

"Even though I won't have a knut to my name?"

"Especially because you won't have a knut to your name," she laughed.

Draco threw his arms around her and began to assault her lips once more in a scorching, soul-searing kiss that she wanted to burn into her memory for all eternity. All of the party guests were applauding wildly and makes catcalls at the happy couple, which brought Draco and Hermione back down to earth. She tried not to look too disappointed when their lips separated and she had to remind herself that she would have a life time of kisses to look forward to and plenty of time to relearn the incredible feeling of his lips pressing up against hers, and their bodies intertwining…

"Hermione," he said, calling her out of her momentary daydream, "I have been dreaming of this moment every day for the last five years. I was absolutely serious when I said that I didn't want to waste another minute without having you in my life…"

"I feel the same way, Draco. I don't know how I lived through the past five years without you."

"Well, with that in mind, what do say we get married right here, right now?"

Hermione looked at Draco not knowing what to say. Then she turned around to face the throng of happy, albeit astonished guests, scanning the crowd until she spotted Ginny, Harry, Luna and Ron. All four were positively beaming at her and gave her what she needed in that moment – confirmation that all of this was really happening.

Turning her attention back to her fiancé she said, "Well, I'm surrounded by my dearest friends and it's unlikely that I'll ever find a more perfect wedding dress…" she mused.

"I'm glad you like it," Draco said with a mischievous smile.

"It was you! You bought this for me?" she asked, incredulous.

"I actually had it designed specifically for you. There's not another dress like it in the world. It's a one of a kind, just like you," he smirked in spite of himself.

"So Madam Malkin knew…?"

"She wasn't the only one…"

At that moment, Ginny and Luna appeared by her side, their masquerade ball gowns transfigured into matching silvery blue bridesmaids dresses and handed her a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"You mean you two were in on it the whole time?" Hermione accused, feigning anger.

"Well, not the _whole_ time," Luna supplied. "Malfoy only approached us a few days ago, gave us these dresses and asked us to bring them to the party this evening. The curse prevented him from actually saying anything, but we got the gist."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Did you say anything to me when Harry told you that he was going to propose? Of course not! I wasn't about to ruin your engagement, however short-lived it may be," Ginny said, winking at her.

That triggered something in Hermione's still foggy brain.

"Wait a minute, how can we possibly get married today? We've only been engaged for five minutes. We haven't filed any of the proper paperwork with the ministry or…"

"Actually, I may have taken care of that little technicality in the event that need should arise…" a new, yet familiar voice added, joining the conversation.

"Mr. Diggory? What are you doing here?"

Hermione didn't think she could handle any more surprises in one evening. She looked over at Draco, who was trying to look appropriately surprised and innocent and failing miserably in his pursuit.

"Suffice it to say that a little bird told me there might be wedding here tonight and that someone may be in need of a person to officiate the ceremony… As a senior ranking ministry official, I am more than qualified to fit the bill, as I said, should the need arise..."

"You would do that for us, Mr. Diggory?" Hermione asked. She was quite touched.

"Hermione my dear, I would be honored," her boss answered, giving her a rare smile.

"Well then I guess we're having a wedding!" Hermione announced excitedly as Draco swept her up into his arms and spun her around before kissing her once more.

"Excellent!" Diggory boomed, "If everyone would kindly proceed outside to the garden and take your seats, we'll begin momentarily."

Hermione peered out the window to see hundreds of white chairs lined up in rows on the sprawling green lawn below. The chairs were facing a large white dais with an arbor on top that was positively covered in flowers and fairy lights. The surrounding trees were similarly adorned and cast a soft light over the entire garden and reflected a faint glow onto a nearby pond. It was perfect. Everything was absolutely perfect.

"You really did think of everything, didn't you?" Hermione asked, thoroughly impressed.

"When you've got more than five years to plan…" Draco said shrugging. "Shall I escort you to the ceremony my love?"

"I don't think so, Malfoy," Ginny piped up. "We'll take it from here," she added gesturing to Luna.

"Don't you know that it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?" Luna asked before Draco could protest. She and Ginny linked their arms around Hermione's and drew her away from Draco.

Hermione merely sighed and shook her head, knowing that it would be fruitless to try to thwart the plans of her two best friends, especially when they were operating as a united front.

"We'll have her back in plenty of time to become the next Lady Malfoy, don't you worry. Now, off you go!" Ginny said, shooing Draco out of the room. "Let's go find the powder room or someplace else where we can get you ready," Ginny said with glee once the room was empty.

"Mitzy would be happy to escort Mistress to her private dressing room," a squeaky voice piped up from around Hermione's navel. She looked down to find a smartly dressed female elf, bowing low to Hermione, Ginny and Luna in turn.

"Mitzy…" Hermione addressed the elf tentatively, "I don't believe that I have a private dressing room. I've only visited the manor a hand full of times…" she began to argue.

"Begging your pardon, miss, but you do. If Mistress will follow Mitzy, I is showing you where it is," the tiny elf persisted.

"You'd better do as she says 'Mione," Ginny said, thoroughly amused. "You wouldn't want to upset the poor creature now would you?"

Luna nodded silently in agreement and Hermione, accepting defeat, allowed herself to be led out of the ballroom, up another staircase and down several passages before coming to a set of large double doors.

"Mistress is having to unlock the doors," Mitzy informed Hermione.

"Alright…" Hermione said warily. "Let me just find my wand," she added, fishing through her beaded hand bag and wishing that this dress had come with an invisible wand holster.

"No, no, no," Mitzy said, waving her tiny elf arms, "Mistress is not needing any wand or keys. Mistress is only having to approach the doors."

Hermione looked at Ginny and Luna who both shrugged as if to say, _Why not_? She stepped forward and extended a hand to grasp the doorknob, but a second before she could reach it, the doors sprung open to reveal a gorgeous sitting room decorated in various shades of pale blue and gold.

"So that's how you got in 'Mione," Ginny stated, amazed. "The wards must have known to admit you. The house already recognizes you as its rightful mistress."

The little elf nodded, smiling at Ginny.

"Do you still have that sobering draught, Gin?" Hermione asked, totally gob-smacked. This was all starting to feel like too much. She wasn't used to being this slow on the uptake and it was rather unsettling. She still wasn't completely certain that any of this was actually happening. It felt like a bizarre, yet wonderful, dream. If she was really going to marry Draco Malfoy, she intended to be sober as a judge when she did it.

Her friends merely smiled at her as Ginny handed her the potion. Hermione held her nose and downed the foul-tasting potion in one, pulling a disgusted face as she did so.

"How do you feel?" Luna inquired.

"Brilliant," Hermione said, coughing. "I feel like myself again," she added with relief.

"Still want to marry Malfoy?" Ginny teased.

"I do," Hermione replied with a grin.

Twenty minutes later Hermione was standing in a doorway that led into the garden, waiting for her cue to enter. Her hair and make-up had been artfully charmed by Ginny while Luna helped to remove her wings and added a beautiful sparkling blue stone hair comb to her coiffure saying that since her dress was her 'something new' the comb (which had belonged to Luna's mother) could be her 'something old, borrowed and blue.' Then Ginny had cast that amazing charm on her silver heels and proclaimed her ready to go.

Through it all Hermione had only burst into tears twice, which she thought was a pretty impressive accomplishment considering the week she'd had. She simply couldn't believe that things had turned out so well. Her elation at being reunited with Draco was not diminished in the least by the sobering potion. With the clearing of her head came a greater appreciation for all that Draco had been through and all that he had done to ensure that they could be together, forever this time.

When the music started, Hermione took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach and eagerly stepped out of the manor and into the garden, taking the first steps toward her future. At first all she could see was row after row of wall-to-wall people. She was so impatient to see Draco that she had to remind herself not to run down the aisle, though she could have done with her charmed heels.

At long last she reached the end of the aisle and there he was, looking debonair as usual in his traditional black dress robes, blonde hair perfectly framing his handsome face and silver eyes shining in the moonlight. His face broke into a radiant smile when their eyes met and Hermione released a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

Taking her hands in his own, Draco led her to the top of the dais and they stood before Amos Diggory, ready to become man and wife. She barely registered as Ginny relieved her of her bouquet and Luna adjusted her dress robes, nor when Amos began the ceremony. She had eyes only for Draco.

Thankfully, when it was Hermione's turn to speak she was able to pull herself together long enough to recite her vows and accept the exquisite diamond wedding ring that Draco slipped onto her left hand. When Luna handed her a simple platinum band to place on Draco's finger, Hermione didn't even bother to wonder about how and when she had acquired it.

The next thing she knew, Amos Diggory had pronounced them husband and wife and before he had even finished saying, 'You may now kiss the bride,' Draco's lips were upon hers in a bruising kiss. Hermione didn't know that it was possible to feel so much happiness at one time. She feared that she might burst from the weight of it. Thunderous applause erupted from the crowd and cheers echoed throughout the grounds.

As Hermione and Draco stood hand in hand, facing their guests with their arms raised in triumph, their attention was drawn to a lone figure in red staggering down the aisle toward them, a martini glass filled with pink liquid in one hand, her voice carrying loudly above the din.

"Oh, yes. Aren't happy endings just wonderful?" Pansy asked with a sour smile. She took a lurching step forward and spilled some of her drink down her front.

"Pansy…" Draco said in a warning tone.

"I'm fine," she assured him, mistaking his threat for concern. "I just want to be the first to congratulate the happy couple," Pansy slurred almost intelligibly. "Take him, Granger. He's all yours," she added as she fell heavily onto the steps of the dais.

"Thanks Pansy, I believe I will," Hermione smiled smugly, giving Draco's hand a playful squeeze.

"What I want to know…" Pansy continued, addressing her now empty glass, "…is what's gonna happen to all that money."

"Ah, that, well…now that I am remarried my entire estate instantly becomes the property of…my wife," Draco said, flashing Hermione his most devious smirk.

"You tricked me!"

"I'm a Slytherin."

"And you still love me."

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy, as a matter of fact I do. Shall we?" Draco asked, offering her his arm.

Smiling widely, Hermione linked arms with her new husband and stepping over a crying Pansy, who was now throwing a drunken tantrum on the ground, she allowed him to lead her out of the garden and back into the manor.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked.

"And here I thought you were the brightest witch of the age," he said in a teasing manner as he led her through the nearest door.

"Oh," she said, comprehension dawning at last, "but what will the guests think?" she asked hesitantly, flushing red.

"If they've got two brain cells to rub together, then they'll think I'm about to shag you senseless, Granger. After all, we do have to make up for a lot of lost time," he said, grinning wickedly. "I hope you didn't have any plans this week..."

Hermione laughed as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips.

"Nope, I'm all yours," she said as she smiled up at the beautiful man before her.

"It's about time," said Draco as his lips descended to meet hers once more.

The End

**A/N: Thanks to all who've been following this story – especially to all who have reviewed! I know that I was supposed to have finished this months ago and I really let this little fluff-fest get away from me, but this story seemed to have a mind of its own! I'm especially regretting the fact that I split this last chapter in two parts. I kind of telegraphed the whole wedding dress thing in the last chapter and I fear it may have given away the ending. *Sigh* I'm not sure that I'm cut out for this fluff-tastic type genre, but I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it!**

**If you would be so kind as to check out my other story (work in progress) which is a bit more angst-y and considerably longer, I would be much obliged. **

**Please review! I never realized this before I started writing fanfic for myself, but reviews really do help to keep the creative juices flowing when you've hit a block. I feel like I'm accountable to someone when they take the time to jot down even a quick review and it definitely makes me want to be a better writer and update sooner! Ok, enough blathering…I've got more writing to do!**


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